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ELEMENTS 

l« 


OE  THE 

PHILOSOPHY 

OF 

THE  HUMAN  MINU. 


Br 

DUGALD  STEWART. 


KBVISISD  AND  ABRIDGED. 

WITH  CRITICAL  AND  EXPLANATORY  NOTES. 

FOR  THE  USE  OF  COLLEGES  AND  SCHOOLS. 


By  FRANCIS  BOWEN, 

ALTOKD  PROFESSOR  OF  MORAL  AND  INTELLECTUAL  PHILOSOPHY  IN  HARVARD  COLLEGE. 


NEAV  EDITION. 


BOSTON  AND  CAMBRIDGE: 

JAMES  MUNROE  AND  COMPANY. 
1859. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by 
JAMES  MUNEOE  AND  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


Though  Dugald  Stewart  has  not  added  many  new 
truths  to  the  Philosophy  of  Mind,  and  has  hardly  at- 
tempted to  solve  its  more  abstruse  and  intricate  prob- 
lems, he  has  done  much  to  render  it  intelligible,  popu- 
lar, and  useful.  He  is  a great  master  of  clear,  har- 
monious, and  ornate  diction,  which  often  rises  into 
eloquence,  and  never  fails  to  impart  interest  and  ani- 
mation to  the  least  promising  portions  of  his  subject. 
But  refined  taste  and  elegant  scholarship  are  among 
the  least  of  his  merits ; the  doctrines  which  he  incul- 
cates are  those  of  vigorous  common  sense  and  sound 
morality,  never  deformed  by  a love  of  paradox,  and 
never  compromising  the  interests  of  truth  by  straining 
after  novelty,  or  by  unseasonable  attempts  to  appear 
ingenious  and  profound.  The  principles  of  social  order 
and  good  government,  and  the  great  interests  of  virtue 
and  religion,  were  never  more  impressively  taught,  or 
eloquently  defended,  than  by  this  professor  of  Scotch 
metaphysics,  who  had  the  honor  to  reckon  among  his 
pupils  many  who  have  since  attained  the  highest  dis- 
tinction in  the  walks  of  science,  literature,  and  states- 
manship. His  writings,  though  he  modestly  says  of 
them  that  they  are  “ professedly  elementary,”  have  been 
more  generally  studied  than  those  of  any  English 
author  upon  the  same  subject  during  the  last  half  cen- 
tury ; and  it  is  a striking  proof  of  their  merits,  and  of 
the  spirit  of  candor  and  amiability  which  is  manifested 
in  them,  that  they  have  never  been  assailed  by  harsh 

n r: ' ■ ^ 


IV 


PREFACE. 


or  vindictive  criticism.  Those  who  controverted  his 
opinions  have  always  spoken  of  him  with  much  respect, 
while  his  disciples  appear  to  have  regarded  him,  espe- 
cially towards  the  close  of  his  long  and  useful  life,  with 
ali'ectionate  veneration. 

His  principal  work,  “ The  Elements  of  the  Philoso- 
phy of  the  Human  Mind,”  has  been  frequently  repub- 
lished in  this  country,  and  has  been  much  used  as  a 
text-book  of  instruction  in  metaphysical  science  in  our 
colleges  and  schools.  When  applied  to  such  a purpose, 
however,  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  has  many  redun- 
dancies and  some  defects.  The  style,  with  all  its  mer- 
its, is  somewhat  diffuse,  the  digressions  are  numerous, 
and  the  illustrations  and  citations  from  other  authors, 
more  copious  than  the  subject  requires,  or  than  the  pa- 
tience of  the  reader  will  always  warrant.  I have 
pruned  these  superfluities  with  great  freedom,  my  pur- 
pose being  to  leave  the  statement  of  doctrine  and  the 
course  of  the  argument  encumbered  with  no  more  ex- 
traneous matter  than  seemed  necessary  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  pupil.  Ml’.  Stewart’s  caution  in  the  state- 
ment of  his  opinions  may  appear  excessive,  and  it  occa- 
sionally betrays  him  into  vagueness  of  expression  and  a 
kind  of  indirect  style,  which  leaves  his  meaning  to  be 
ascertained  rather  by  inference,  than  from  the  obvious 
import  of  the  language.  He  also  takes  for  granted  the 
reader’s  acquaintance  with  the  writings  and  opinions  of 
his  more  celebrated  contemporaries  and  predecessors, 
thus  leaving  many  blanks  to  be  filled  by  those  who  are 
not  particularly  conversant  with  philosophical  studies. 
I have  endeavored  to  supply  some  of  these  deficiencies 
in  the  notes ; but  wishing  not  to  swell  the  dimensions 
of  the  book,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make  it  contain 
as  much  as  possible  of  Stewart’s  own  speculations,  I 
have  preferred  silently  to  omit  those  passages  which 
stood  in  great  need  of  annotation,  instead  of  introduc- 
ing them,  with  a commentary  which  should  seem  dis- 
proportioned  in  amount  to  the  text.  But  these  abridg- 
ments have  been  very  carefully  made,  and  I hope  it  will 
be  found  that  they  do  not  mar  the  continuity  of  the 
work,  or  leave  any  gaps  which  may  create  obscurity. 


PREFACE. 


V 


Whatever  I have  added  to  this  edition,  either  in  the 
text  or  the  notes,  is  inclosed  in  angular  brackets,  [ ], 
so  that  the  reader  may  easily  distinguish  Mr.  Stewart’s 
words  from  those  of  his  commentator.  For  the  conven- 
ience both  of  teachers  and  learners,  I have  also  given  a 
sort  of  analysis  and  abstract  of  the  doctrines  and  argu- 
ments of  the  author,  by  prefixing  to  many  of  the  para- 
graphs a brief  statement,  in  italic  type,  of  the  subject  to 
which  it  relates,  or  of  the  point  which  it  is  designed  to 
prove.  These  headings  of  the  sections  are  not  inclosed 
in  brackets,  being  sufficiently  indicated  by  their  nature, 
and  by  the  change  of  type.  Italics  have  also  been 
freely  used  in  the  body  of  the  work,  in  order  to  direct 
the  student’s  attention  to  the  particular  words  or  sen- 
tences which  contain  the  gist  of  the  paragraph  a pre- 
caution which  diffuse  and  digressive  writers  may  often 
profitably  adopt,  in  order  that  their  readers  may  never 
be  at  a loss  to  know  what  they  are  driving  at. 

The  first  portion  of  Mr.  Stewart’s  “ Elements  ” was 
published  in  1792 ; and  “ after  an  interval  of  more  than 
twenty  years,”  he  presented  to  the  public  the  second 
volume.  It  was  less  successful  than  its  predecessor,  as 
the  subject  of  which  it  treats  is  more  abstruse  and  for- 
bidding than  the  former  theme,  and  not  so  well  adapted 
to  the  author’s  peculiar  tastes  and  powers.  The  re- 
searches and  speculations  of  later  writers,  moreover, 
especially  of  Sir  John  Herschel,  Mr.  J.  S.  MiU,  and 
Dr.  Whewell,  have  deprived  this  later  volume,  iii  great 
part,  of  the  interest  and  importance  which  it  formerly 
possessed.  I have,  therefore,  made  comparatively  little 
use  of  it  in  this  abridgment,  omitting  the  latter  half  of 
it  altogether,  and  striking  out  large  portions  of  the  first 
two  chapters.  Mr.  Stewart’s  own  annotations,  a double 
tier  of  which  accompanies,  and  almost  exceeds  in  quan- 
tity, the  text,  have  also  been  diligently  winnowed  and 
bolted,  so  that  they  are  reduced  to  a small  portion  of 
their  primitive  bulk.  Translations  are  given  of  the 
Latin,  Greek,  and  French  citations,  the  original  being 
often  removed  to  make  room  for  them. 

The  following  exti-act  from  ]\'Ir.  Stewart’s  Preface  to 
his  second  volume,  is  a sufficient  indication  of  the  piy:- 

A * 


VI 


PREFACE. 


pose  for  which  this  abridgment  of  the  whole  work  has 
been  prepared.  The  book,  he  says,  “ is  more  particu- 
larly intended  for  the  use  of  academical  students ; and 
is  oft’ered  to  them  as  a guide  or  assistant,  at  that  impor- 
tant stage  of  then:  progress  when,  the  usual  course  of 
discipline  being  completed,  an  inquisitive  mind  is  natu- 
rally led  to  review  its  past  attainments,  and  to  form 
plans  for  its  future  improvement.  In  the  prosecution 
of  this  design,  I have  not  aimed  at  the  establishment 
of  new  theories  ; far  less  have  I aspired  to  the  invention 
of  and  new  organ  for  the  discovery  of  truth.  My  prin- 
cipal object  is  to  aid  my  readers  in  unlearning  the 
scholastic  errors  which,  in  a greater  or  less  degree,  still 
maintain  their  ground  in  our  most  celebrated  seats  of 
learning;  and  by  subjecting  to  /ree,  but  I trust,  not 
skeptical  discussion,  the  more  enlightened  though  dis- 
cordant systems  of  modern  logicians,  to  accustom  the 
understanding  to  the  unfettered  exercise  of  its  native 
capacities.  That  several  of  the  views  opened  in  the 
following  pages  appear  to  myself  original,  and  of  some 
importance,  I will  not  deny ; but  the  reception  these 
may  meet  with,  I shall  regard  as  a matter  of  compara- 
tive indifference,  if  my  labors  be  found  useful  in  train- 
ing the  mind  to  those  habits  of  reflection  on  its  own 
operations,  which  may  enable  it  to  superadd  to  the 
instructions  of  the  schools,  that  higher  education  which 
no  schools  can  bestow.” 

While  these  sheets  were  passing  through  the  press,  the 
second  volume  of  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  very  hand- 
some edition  of  “The  Collected  Works  of  Dugald 
Stewart”  was  received  in  this  country.  It  contains 
the  first  volume  of  “ Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the 
Human  Mind,”  corresponding  to  the  first  seven  chap- 
ters of  the  present  work.  I have  examined  it  with  care, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  some  new  matter  which  might  be 
added  to  this  volume.  But  this  hope  was  disappointed. 
The  additions  are  insignificant  in  extent  and  impor- 
tance ; they  wouid  not  fill  a page,  and  consist  merely 
of  some  additional  references  and  brief  citations  from 
other  authors.  Indeed,  Sir  William  Hamilton  says  in 
the  Preface,  “ there  has  been  nothing  added  by  me,  in 


PREFACE. 


vii 

the  view  of  vindicating,  of  supplementing  or  confirming, 
of  qualifying  or  criticising,  Stewart’s  doctrines.” 

He  also  remarks,  that  though  the  volume  was  often 
reprinted  during  the  author’s  lifetime,  after  the  second 
edition  in  1802,  “ no  alteration  or  amplification,  — none 
certainly  of  any  consequence,  has  been  hitherto  incor- 
porated” with  it.  Some  “intended  additions  were 
indeed  supplied,”  when  the  thii'd  volume  was  published, 
in  1827 ; and  he  observes  that  “ these  have  only  now 
been  entered  in  their  proper  places.”  Of  course,  he 
here  refers  only  to  editions  published  in  Great  Britain  ; 
as  these  additions  were  “ entered  in  their  proper  places  ” 
in  an  American  edition  published  several  years  ago, 
from  which  the  present  volume  was  printed.  As  the 
Preface  states  that  Mr.  Stewart  was  not  satisfied  with 
the  translations  of  quotations  not  in  English,  which 
were  made  for  the  Boston  edition  of  1821,  it  is  proper 
to  add,  that  these  quotations  have  been  translated  anew 
for  this  volume.  They  are  not  translated  at  all  in  Sir 
William  Hamilton’s  edition. 


Cambkidge,  September  25,  1854. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION, 

PAGE 


Part  I.  Nature  and  Object  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind  1 

II.  Utility  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind  . . .11 

CHAPTER  I. 

Of  the  Powers  of  External  Perception  . . . .30 

.Sect.  I.  Theories  formed  by  Philosophers  to  explain  the  manner  in 

which  the  Mind  perceives  external  Objects  . . .30 

II.  Of  Dr.  Reid’s  Speculations  on  the  Subject  of  Perception  38 

III.  Of  the  Origin  of  our  Knowledge 44 


CHAPTER  II. 

Or  Attention 49 

CHAPTER  III. 

Of  Conception 76 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  Abstraction 92 

Sect.  I.  General  Observations  on  this  Faculty  of  the  Mind  . . 92 

II.  Objects  of  our  Thoughts,  when  we  employ  general  terms  97 

III.  Remarks  on  the  opinions  of  some  modern  Philosophers  on 

the  subject  of  the  foregoing  Section  . . . .112 

IV.  Inferences  with  respect  to  the  Use  of  Language  as  an  In- 

strument of  Thought,  and  the  Errors  in  Reasoning  to 
which  it  occasionally  gives  rise 125 


X 


CONTENTS. 


Sect.  V.  Of  the  Purposes  to  which  the  Powers  of  Abstraction  and 

Generalization  are  subservient 129 

VI.  Of  the  Errors  to  which  we  arc  liable  in  consequence  of  a 

rash  Application  of  general  Principles  . . . .137 

VII.  Ditferences  in  the  Characters  of  Individuals  arising  from 

different  Habits  of  Abstraction  and  Generalization  . 143 

CHAPTER  V. 

Of  the  Association  of  Ideas 150 

Part  I.  Of  the  Influence  op  Association  in  regulating 

THE  Succession  of  our  Thoughts  . . . 151 

Sect.  I.  General  Observations  on  this  Part  of  our  Constitution  . 151 
II.  Of  the  Principles  of  Association  among  our  Ideas  . . ICO 

III.  Of  the  Power  which  the  Mind  has  over  the  Train  of  its 


Thoughts 165 

IV.  Illustrations  of  this  Doctrine 169 

1.  Of  Wit 169 

2.  Of  Rhyme 173 

3.  Of  Poetic.al  Fancy  .....  . 177 


4.  Of  Invention  in  the  Arts  and  Sciences  . . .181 

V.  Application  of  the  Principles  stated  in  the  foregoing  Sec- 
tions, to  explain  the  Phenomena  of  Dreaming  . .188 

Part  II.  Op  the  Influence  op  Association  on  the  Intel- 
lectual AND  ON  the  Active  Powers  . . . 208 

Sect.  I.  Of  the  Influence  of  casual  Associations  on  our  speculative 


Conclusions 208 

II.  Of  the  Influence  of  the  Association  of  Ideas  on  our  Judg- 
ments in  Matters  of  Taste  ......  227 

III.  Of  the  Influence  of  Association  on  our  active  Principles 

and  on  our  moral  Judgments  ......  239 

IV.  General  Remarks  on  the  foregoing  Subjects  . . . 248 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Of  Memory  . . 254 

Sect.  I.  General  Observations  on  Memory 254 

II.  Of  the  Varieties  of  Memory  in  different  Individuals  . 269 

III.  Of  the  Improvement  of  Memory 290 


CONTENTS.  XI 

Sect.  IV.  Of  the  Aid  which  the  Memory  derives  from  Philosophical 

Arrangement  ........  295 

V.  Effects  of  committing  to  Writing  our  acquired  Knowledge  304 

VI.  Of  Artificial  Memory 311 

VII.  Importance  of  making  a proper  Selection  among  the  Ob- 
jects of  our  Knowledge,  in  order  to  derive  Advantage 
from  the  Acquisitions  of  Memory  . . . .315 

VIII.  Of  the  Connection  between  Memory  and  Genius  . . 323 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Oe  Imagination 


Sect.  I.  Analysis  of  Imagination 

II.  Imagination  considered  in  its  Relation  to  the  Fine  Arts 

III.  Relation  of  Imagination  and  of  Taste  to  Genius  . 

IV.  Influence  of  Imagination  on  Character  and  Happiness 


330 

330 

337 

349 

351 


V.  Inconveniences  resulting  from  an  ill-regulated  Imagination  357 

VI.  Uses  to  which  the  Power  of  Imagination  is  subservient  . 367 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Of  Reason 


372 


Sect.  I.  On  the  Vagueness  and  Ambiguity  of  Philosophical  Lan- 
guage relative  to  this  part  of  our  Constitution  . .372 

II.  Of  Mathematical  Axioms 380 

HI.  Laws  of  Belief  connected  with  the  exercise  of  Conscious- 
ness, Memory,  Perception,  and  Reasoning  . . . 392 


CHAPTER  IK. 

Of  Reasoning  and  of  Deductive  Evidence 


. 405 


Sect.  I.  1.  Doubts  with  respect  to  Locke’s  Distinction  between  the 

Powers  of  Intuition  and  of  Reasoning  . . . 405 

2.  Conclusions  obtained  by  a Process  of  Deduction  often 

mistaken  for  Intuitive  Judgments  . . . .410 

n.  Of  General  Reasoning 413 

III.  Of  Mathematical  Demonstration 423 

IV.  Reasonings  concerning  Probable  or  Contingent  Truths  . 456 


INTEODUCTIOJ^ 


PART  I. 

OP  THE  NATURE  AND  OBJECT  OF  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OP  THE 
HUMAN  MIND. 

TF%  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind  has  hitherto  made 
little  progress.  — The  prejudice  which  is  commonly  entertain- 
ed against  metaphysical  speculations,  seems  to  arise  chiefly 
from  two  causes : First,  from  an  apprehension  that  the  subjects 
about  which  they  are  employed  are  placed  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  human  faculties ; and,  secondly,  from  a belief  that  these 
subjects  have  no  relation  to  the  business  of  life. 

The  frivolous  and  absurd  discussions  which  abound  in  the 
writings  of  most  metaphysical  authors,  afford  but  too  many 
arguments  in  justification  of  these  opinions;  and  if  such  dis- 
cussions were  to  be  admitted  as  a fair  specimen  of  what  the 
human  mind  is  able  to  accomplish  in  this  department  of  science, 
the  contempt,  into  which  it  has  fallen  of  late,  might  with  jus- 
tice be  regarded  as  no  inconsiderable  evidence  of  the  progress 
which  true  philosophy  has  made  in  the  present  age.  Among 
tlie  various  subjects  of  inquiry,  however,  which,  in  consequence 
of  the  vague  use  of  language,  are  comprehended  under  the  gen- 
eral title  of  Metaphysics,*  there  are  some,  which  are  essentially 


* [The  term  Physics  comprehends  the  various  branches  of  Physical  or 
Natural  Philosophy,  such  as  Chemistry,  Mechanics,  Astronomy,  Botany, 
etc.  It  properly  denotes  the  science  of  things  actually  existing,  whether  those 

1 


2 


INTRODUCTION. 


distinguished  from  the  rest,  both  by  the  degree  of  evidence 
which  accompanies  their  pi'inciples,  and  by  the  relation  which 
they  bear  to  the  useful  sciences  and  arts ; and  it  has  unfortu- 
nately happened,  that  these  have  shared  in  that  general  dis- 
credit into  which  the  other  branches  of  metaphysics  have 
justly  fallen.  To  this  circumstance  is  probably  to  be  ascribed 
the  little  progress  which  has  hitherto  been  made  in  the  philos- 
ophy OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND ; — a Science  so  interesting  in  its 
nature,  and  so  important  in  its  applications,  that  it  could  scarce- 
ly have  failed,  in  these  inquisitive  and  enlightened  times,  to 
have  excited  a very  general  attention,  if  it  had  not  acciden- 
tally been  classed,  in  the  public  opinion,  with  the  vain  and  un- 
profitable disquisitions  of  the  schoolmen. 

In  order  to  obviate  these  misapprehensions  with  respect  to 
the  subject  of  the  following  work,  I have  thought  it  proper, 
in  this  preliminary  chapter,  first,  to  explain  the  nature  of  the 
truths  which  I propose  to  investigate ; and,  secondly,  to  point 
out  some  of  the  more  important  appheations  of  which  they  are 
susceptible. 


things  arc  material  or  immaterial ; but  it  is  usually  confined  to  things  ma- 
terial, and  thus  signifies  the  science  of  the  external  world.  After  Aristotle 
had  written  books  upon  various  branches  of  Physics,  lie  composed  certain 
other  treatises,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Metaphysics,  or  things  coming 
after  Physics.  In  its  widest  signification,  therefore,  the  term  Metaphysics 
comprehends  every  study  or  science  which  does  not  belong  to  Physics.  It 
is  the  science  of  pure  ideas,  or  of  abstract  and  universal  truths  ; the  objects  of 
this  science  lie  beyond  the  range  of  the  senses,  and  are  not  attainable  by 
experience.  That  every  event  must  have  a cause  — that  qualities  or  attri- 
butes presuppose  a substance  in  whicli  they  inhere  — that  the  human  will  is 
free,  etc.,  are  propositions  which  belong  to  Metaphysics.  By  many  writers, 
however,  tlie  word  Metaphysics  is  loosely  applied  to  denote  the  Philoso- 
phy of  Mind.  Such  a Philosophy  treats  of  the  Association  of  Ideas,  Mem- 
ory, Attention,  and  other  phenomena  of  mind ; and  as  it  consists  only  in 
collecting  facts  and  making  inductions,  it  is  properly  an  experimental  sci- 
ence, and  ought  to  be  ranked  under  the  head  of  Physics  rather  than  of  Meta- 
physics. Psychology  is  the  latest  term  in  use  to  denote  the  science  of  men- 
tal phenomena,  while  Physics,  in  its  narrower  signification,  comprehends 
only  material  phenomena  ; the  one  is  the  philosophy  of  mind,  the  other  is 
the  philosophy  of  matter.] 


INTRODUCTION. 


3 


Our  notions  both  of  Matter  and  Mind  are  merely  relative. — 
The  notion  we  annex  to  the  words,  matter  and  mind,  as  is  well 
remarked  by  Dr.  Reid,  (in  his  Essays  on  the  Active  Powers  of 
Man,)  are  merely  relative.  If  I am  asked,  what  I mean  by 
matter  ? I can  only  explain  myself  by  saying,  it  is  that  which 
is  extended,  figured,  colored,  movable,  hard  or  soft,  rough  or 
smooth,  hot  or  cold ; — that  is,  I can  define  it  in  no  other  way 
than  by  enumerating  its  sensible  qualities.  It  is  not  matter,  or 
body,  which  I 'perceive  by  my  senses ; but  only  extension,  figure, 
color,  and  certain  other  qualities,  which  the  constitution  of  my  na- 
ture leads  me  to  refer  to  something,  which  is  extended,  figured, 
and  colored.  The  case  is  precisely  similar  with  respect  to  mind. 
We  are  not  immediately  conscious  of  its  existence,  but  we  are 
conscious  of  sensation,  thought,  and  volition;  operations,  which 
imply  the  existence  of  something  which  feels,  thinks,  and  viiUs. 
Every  man,  too,  is  impressed  with  an  irresistible  conviction, 
that  aU  these  sensations,  thoughts,  and  vohtions,  belong  to  one 
and  the  same  being ; to  that  being,  which  he  calls  himself;  a 
being,  which  he  is  led,  by  the  constitution  of  his  nature,  to  con- 
sider as  something  distinct  from  his  body,  and  as  not  liable  to  be 
impaired  by  the  loss  or  mutilation  of  any  of  its  organs. 

Proof  of  the  separate  existence  of  Mind.  — From  these  con- 
siderations, it  appears,  that  we  have  the  same  evidence  for  the  ex- 
istence of  mind,  that  we  have  for  the  existence  of  body  ; nay,  it 
there  be  any  diflTerence  between  the  two  cases,  that  we  have 
stronger  evidence  for  it ; inasmuch  as  the  one  is  suggested  to  us 
by  the  subjects  of  our  own  consciousness,*  and  the  other  merely 


* [ Consciousness  is  usually  defined  to  be  tlm  notice  which  the  mind  takes  oj 
its  own  operations.  If  I think  or  remember,  I know,  or  am  conscious,  that  I 
think  or  remember ; if  I am  pained  or  pleased,  I know  that  I am  so  pained 
or  pleased.  Thus,  Consciousness  is  the  witness  or  reporter  of  all  mental 
phenomena,  just  as  the  senses  witness  and  report  the  phenomena  of  the 
external  universe.  Consciousness  reports  the  present  phenomena  of  mind, 
as  memory  reports  its  past  phenomena. 

By  most  writers.  Consciousness  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a separate 
faculty  of  mind,  whose  special  office  it  is  to  take  cognizance  of  whatever 
Is  passing  within  us.  But  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  Mr.  James  Mill,  Sir  W 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


by  the  objects  of  our  perceptions : and  in  this  light,  undoubtedly, 
the  fact  would  appear  to  every  person,  were  it  not,  that,  from 
our  earliest  years,  the  attention  is  engrossed  with  the  qualities 
and  laws  of  matter,  an  acquaintance  with  which  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  our  animal  existence.  Hence 
it  is,  that  these  phenomena  occupy  our  thoughts  more  than  those 
of  mind ; that  we  are  perpetually  tempted  to  explain  the  latter 
[the  phenomena  of  mind]  by  the  analogy  of  the  former  [the 
phenomena  of  matter],  and  even  to  endeavor  to  refer  them  to 
the  same  general  laws  ; and  that  we  acquire  habits  of  inatten- 
tion to  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  too  strong  to  be  after- 
wards surmounted,  without  the  most  persevering  industry. 

If  the  foregoing  observations  be  well  founded,  they  establish 
the  distinction  between  mind  and  matter,  without  any  long  pro- 
cess of  metaphysical  reasoning :  *  * for  if  our  notions  of  both  are 


Hamilton,  and  others,  justly  object  to  this  doctrine.  Having  a sensation, 
and  being  conscious  of  that  sensation,  are  not  two  tilings ; the  thing  is  one, 
the  names  only  are  two.  If  I say  I feel  a sensation,  the  expression  is  tau- 
tological, for  the  feeling  and  the  sensation  are  the  same  thing  ; the  sensation 
is  the  feeling.  And  to  say  I am  conscious  of  a feeling,  is  merely  to  say  that 
I fed  it ; to  have  a feeling  is  to  be  conscious,  and  to  be  conscious  is  to  have 
a feeling.  A single  perception  is  simple  and  indivisible  ; it  cannot  be  ana- 
lyzed into  a fact  and  the  consciousness  of  that  fact,  for  the  event  itself  be- 
ing an  act  of  knowing,  it  does  not  exist,  if  it  be  not  known  to  exist.  See 
Sir  W.  Hamilton’s  Discussions  on  Philosophy,  2d.  ed.  p.  47.  James  MUl’s 
Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind,  I.  p.  170.  Bowen’s  Essays,  p.  131.  Dr.  T. 
Brown’s  Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  I.  pp.  244-261.] 

* In  stating  the  relative  notions  which  we  have  of  mind  and  of  body,  I 
have  avoided  the  use  of  the  word  substance,  as  I am  unwilling  to  furnish  the 
slightest  occasion  for  controversy ; and  have  contented  myself  with  defin- 
ing mind  to  be  that  which  feels,  thinks,  wills,  hopes,  fears,  desires,  etc.- 
'That  my  consciousness  of  these  and  other  operations  is  necessarily  accom- 
panied with  a conviction  of  my  own  existence,  and  with  a conviction  that 
all  of  them  belong  to  one  and  the  same  being,  is  not  an  hypothesis,  but  a 
fact ; of  which  it  is  no  more  possible  for  me  to  doubt,  than  of  the  reality 
of  my  own  sensations  or  volitions. 

YSuhslance  is  the  unknown  something  which  underlies  and  supports  all  the 
qualities  by  which  anj  thing  is  made  known  to  us.  We  can  define  any  par- 
ticular body  only  by  saying,  that  it  is  something  which  is  extended,  colored, 


INTRODUCTION. 


5 


merely  relative;  if  we  know  the  one  only  by  such  sensible 
qualities  as  extension,  figure,  and  solidity ; and  the  other,  by 
such  operations  as  sensation,  thought,  and  volition ; we  are  cer- 
tainly entitled  to  say,  that  matter  and  mind,  considered  as  ob- 
jects of  human  study,  are  essentially  different ; the  science  of 
the  former  resting  ultimately  on  the  phenomena  exhibited  to 
our  senses ; that  of  the  latter,  on  the  phenomena  of  which  we 
are  conscious.  Instead,  therefore,  of  objecting  to  the  scheme  of 
materialism,  that  its  conclusions  are  false,  it  would  be  more  ac- 
curate to  say,  that  its  aim  is  unphilosophical.  It  proceeds  on  a 
misapprehension  of  the  proper  object  of  science  ; the  difficulty 
which  it  professes  to  remove  being  manifestly  placed  beyond 
the  reach  of  our  faculties.  Surely,  when  we  attempt  to  explain 
the  nature  of  that  principle  which  feels  and  thinks  and  wills,  by 
saying  that  it  is  a material  substance,  or  that  it  is  the  result  of 
material  organization,  we  impose  on  ourselves  by  words ; for- 
getting, that  matter  as  well  as  mind  is  known  to  us  by  its  quali- 
ties and  attributes  alone,  and  that  we  are  totally  ignorant  of  the 
essence  of  either.* * 

The  Philosophy  of  Mind  susceptible  of  cultivation  and  pro- 
gress. — It  would  probably  contribute  much  to  accelerate  the 
progress  of  the  philosophy  of  mind,  if,  (1.)  a distinct  explana- 
tion were  given  of  its  nature  and  object ; and  if,  (2.)  some  gen- 


hard  or  soft,  hot  or  cold,  etc. ; that  is,  by  enumerating  those  properties  or 
attributes,  by  means  of  which  it  manifests  itself  to  our  senses.  So  we  can 
define  mind  only  by  saying,  that  it  is  something  which  feels,  thinks,  remem- 
bers, conceives,  etc. ; that  is,  we  enumerate  the  qualities  or  faculties 
through  which  it  manifests  itself  in  consciousness.  In  both  cases,  this 
unknown  something  is  called  substance,  which  word,  in  plain  English,  means 
that  which  stands  under,  or  upholds,  its  various  qualities.] 

* Some  metaphysicians,  who  appear  to  admit  the  truth  of  the  foregoing 
reasoning,  have  further  urged,  that  for  any  thing  we  can  prove  to  the  con- 
trary, it  is  possible,  that  the  unknown  substance  which  has  the  qualities  of 
extension,  figure,  and  color,  may  be  the  same  with  the  unknown  substance 
which  has  the  attributes  of  feeling,  thinking,  and  willing.  But  besides 
that  this  is  only  an  hypothesis,  which  amounts  to  nothing  more  than  a 
mere  possibility,  even  if  it  were  true,  it  would  no  more  be  proper  to  say 
of  mind,  that  it  is  material,  than  to  say  of  body,  that  it  is  spiritual 
1 * 


G 


INTKODUCTIOJr. 


eral  rules  were  laid  down,  with  respect  to  the  proper  method  of 
conducting  the  study  of  it. 

Upon  a slight  attention  to  the  operations  of  our  minds,  they 
appear  to  be  so  complicated,  and  so  infinitely  diversified,  that  it 
seems  to  he  impossible  to  reduce  them  to  any  general  laws.* 


* [Wliat  are  general  laws,  or  laws  of  nature,  as  they  are  generally  termed  1 
Eew  phrases  are  more  frequently  and  glibly  used  than  these,  yet,  in  the 
minds  of  most  persons,  they  have  but  a vague  and  uncertain  signification. 
It  is  worth  while,  then,  to  attempt  to  gain  some  clear  and  precise  notions 
respecting  them. 

A law  of  nature  is  nothing  more  than  a general  fact,  or  rather,  a general 
statement  comprehending  under  it  many  similar  individual  facts.  A law  is  the 
result  of  a classification,  and  individual  things  are  classed  together  on  ac- 
count of  some  similarity  or  uniformity  that  has  been  discovered  between 
them. 

1.  Objects  that  exist  are  classed  together  on  account  of  their  resemblance 
to  each  other.  Such  classification  may  consist  of  several  successive  steps, 
and  is  the  proper  work  of  Natural  History.  Thus,  all  objects  whatsoever 
are  divided  into  tlu'ee  great  kingdoms,  the  Animal,  the  Vegetable,  and  the 
Mineral.  The  Animal  kingdom  is  subdivided  into  four  classes.  Verte- 
brates, Molluscs,  Articulates,  and  Radiates  or  Zoophites.  Again,  Verte- 
brates ai'C  divided  into  Mammifers,  Birds,  Reptiles,  and  Pishes.  All  the 
animals  ranked  under  any  one  of  these  classes  agree  with  each  other  in 
certain  respects ; all  Vertebrates,  for  instance,  have  a vertebral  column 
inclosing  a spinal  cord  ; all  Birds  have  an  apparatus,  or  the  rudiments  of 
an  apparatus,  for  flying.  The  General  Pact,  that  all  the  animals  so  classed 
possess  the  given  organ  or  property,  is  called  a Law  of  Nature.  It  is  a 
Law  of  Nature,  for  instance,  that  all  Vertebrates  have  a spinal  cord  and  a 
skull  inclosing  a brain ; it  is  also  a Law,  that  all  Mammifers  and  Birds 
have  warm  red  blood,  and  a heart  composed  of  four  compartments. 
Another  Law  of  Nature  is,  that  every  animal  is  pi-oduced  from  an  egg. 
These  Laws  are  not  necessary  and  immutable  truths,  but  are  mere  induc- 
tions founded  on  experience ; they  hold  good  only  until  an  instance  is 
discovered  to  the  contrary.  Whales  were  once  classed  with  Pishes ; they 
are  now  proi)erly  ranked  with  Mammifers,  because  unlike  Pishes,  they 
suckle  their  young.  It  was  once  supposed  to  be  a Law  of  Nature,  that  all 
swans  .arc  white;  black  swans  have  since  been  discovered. 

2.  Events  that  take  place,  also,  arc  classed  together  on  account  of  their 
uniformity.  Thus,  it  is  a General  Pact,  or  Law  of  Nature,  that  pressure 
on  a fluid  is  propagated  equally  in  all  directions,  and  that  a heavy  body, 
if  unsupported,  falls  to  the  earth.  Many  of  these  General  Pacts  are  so 
familiar,  that  wc  never  think  of  formally  enunciating  them ; “ no  science,’ 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


In  consequence,  however,  of  a more  accurate  examination,  the 
prospect  clears  up ; and  the  phenomena,  which  appeared,  at  first. 


says  J.  S.  Mill,  “ was  needed  to  teach  men  that  food  nourishes,  that  water 
drowns,  or  quenches  thirst,  that  the  sun  gives  light  and  heat,  that  bodies 
fall  to  the  ground.”  These  laws,  also,  are  not  necessary  truths,  but  are 
tmnded  on  mere  induction,  — often  on  a not  very  extensive  one.  A 
newly  discovered  metal,  being  found,  by  a single  experiment,  to  be  fusible 
at  a certain  temperature,  it  is  at  once  declared  to  be  a Law  of  Nature,  that 
it  docs  melt,  always  has  melted,  and  always  will  melt,  at  the  ascertained 
degree  of  heat.  It  is  certainly  possible,  though  not  probable,  that  another 
piece  of  the  metal  should  be  discovered  which  will  not  melt  at  this  tem- 
perature ; such  an  instance  would  be  only  a parallel  to  the  case  of  the 
black  swans.  A particular  event,  comprehended  under  the  statement  of  a 
Law,  is  not  properly  said  to  be  caused  by  the  Law,  but  only  to  be  a case, 
or  instance,  happening  under  the  Law.  A cow  does  not  suckle  its  calf  be- 
cause it  is  a Mammifer,  but  it  is  called  a Mammifer  because  it  suckles  its 
calf.  So,  it  is  not  a law  of  Hydrostatics  which  causes  water  to  remain  at 
the  same  level  in  the  two  arms  of  a bent  tube  ; but  the  fact,  that  the  water 
stands  at  this  level,  is  ranked  among  many  other  facts,  which  are  compre- 
hended under  the  general  statement,  called  a Law,  of  Hydrostatics.  Grav- 
itation does  not  make  the  stone  fall,  but  the  particular  fact,  that  this  stone 
fell,  is  comprehended  under  the  General  Tact,  or  Law,  of  Gravitation.  In 
like  manner.  Gravitation  does  not  make  the  earth  revolve  in  an  elliptical 
orbit  round  the  sun ; but  the  fact,  that  the  earth  revolves  in  this  manner, 
is  ranked  with  the  falling  of  a stone^  and  with  many  other  facts  of  a similar 
character,  under  the  general  statement,  or  Law,  of  Gravitation. 

Hence  it  is  abundantly  evident,  to  adopt  Mr.  Mill’s  language,  that  “ the 
expression.  Laws  of  Nature,  means  nothing  but  the  uniformities  which  exist 
among  natural  phenomena,  when  reduced  to  their  simplest  expression.” 
The  Laws  of  Nature  do  not  account  for,  or  explain,  the  phenomena  of  na- 
ture ; they  only  describe  them.  Description  and  classification  are  the  sole 
employments  of  Physical  science. 

To  account  for,  or  explain,  the  operations  of  nature,  we  must  have 
recourse  to  Metaphysics — to  something  o/ier,  or  uioye,  nature.  We  must 
ascend  to  the  notion  of  Cause.  The  maxim,  “ every  event  must  have  a cause,” 
is  not,  like  the  so-called  Laws  of  Nature,  a mere  induction,  founded  on 
experience,  and  holding  good  only  until  an  instance  is  discovered  to  the 
contrary ; it  is  a necessary  and  immutable  truth.  It  is  not  derived  from 
observation  of  natural  phenomena,  but  is  superimposed  upon  such  obser- 
vation by  a necessity  of  the  human  intellect.  It  is  not  made  known  through 
the  senses ; and  its  falsity,  under  any  circumstances,  is  not  possible — is  not 
even  conceivable.  The  Cause,  to  which  it  points  us,  is  not  to  be  found  in 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


to  be  too  various  for  our  compreliensiou,  are  found  to  be  the 
result  of  a comparatively  small  number  of  simple  and  uncom- 
pounded faculties,  or  of  simple  and  uncompounded  principles  of 
action.  These  faculties  and  principles  are  the  general  laws  of 
our  constitution,  and  hold  tlie  same  place  in  the  philosophy  of 
mind,  that  the  general  laws  we  investigate  in  physics,  hold  in 
that  branch  of  science.  In  both  cases,  the  laws  which  nature 
has  established  are  to  be  investigated  only  by  an  examination 
of  facts ; and  in  both  cases,  a knowledge  of  these  laws  leads  to 
an  explanation  of  an  infinite  number  of.phenomena. 

In  the  investigation  of  physical  laws,  it  is  well  known  that 
our  inquiries  must  always  terminate  in  some  general  fact,  of 
which  no  account  can  be  given,  but  that  such  is  the  constitution 
of  nature.  After  we  have  established,  for  example,  from  the 
astronomical  phenomena,  the  universality  of  the  law  of  grav- 
itation, it  may  still  be  asked,  whether  this  law  implies  the  con- 
stant agency  of  mind  ; and  (upon  the  supposition  that  it  does) 
whether  it  be  probable  that  the  Deity  always  operates  imme- 
diately, or  by  means  of  subordinate  instruments  ? But  these 
questions,  however  curious,  do  not  fall  under  the  province  of  the 
natural  jihilosopher.  It  is  sufficient  for  lus  purpose,  if  tlie  uni- 
versality of  the  fact  be  admitted. 

The  case  is  exactly  the  same  in  the  philosophy  of  mind. 
When  we  have  once  ascertained  a general  fact ; such  as,  the 
various  laws  which  regulate  the  Association  of  Ideas,  or  the  de- 
pendence of  Memory  on  that  effort  of  the  mind  which  we  call 
Attention  ; it  is  all  we  ought  to  aim  at,  in  this  branch  of  science. 
If  we  proceed  no  further  than  facts  for  which  we  have  the  ev- 
idence of  our  own  consciousness,  our  conclusions  will  be  no  less 
certain,  than  those  in  physics ; but  if  our  curiosity  leads  us  to 
attempt  an  exjdanation  of  the  Association  of  Ideas,  by  certain 


nature.  The  mere  Pliysicist,  after  vainly  searching,  ever  since  tlie  world 
began,  for  a single  instance  of  it,  has  at  length  abandoned  the  atteinjjt  as 
hopeless,  and  now  confines  himself  to  the  mere  description  of  natural  phe- 
nomena. The  true  cause  of  these  phenomena  must  be  sought  for  in  the 
realm,  not  of  matter,  but  of  mind.  | 


INJIIODDCTION. 


9 


supposed  vibrations,  or  other  changes,  in  the  state  of  the  brain ; 
or  to  explain  Menaory,  by  means  of  supposed  impressions  and 
traces  in  the  sensorium;  we  evidently  blend  a collection  of  im- 
portant and  well- ascertained  truths,  with  principles  which  rest 
wholly  on  conjecture.* 

The  Analogy  of  Alatter  no  Guide  to  the  Philosophy  of  Mind. 
— Beside  this  inattention  to  the  proper  limits  of  philosophical 
inquiry,  other  sources  of  error,  from  which  the  science  of  phys- 
ics is  entirely  exempted,  have  contributed  to  retard  the  pro- 
gress of  the  philosophy  of  mind.  Of  these,  the  most  important 
proceed  from  that  disposition  which  is  so  natural  to  every  per- 
son, at  the  commencement  of  his  philosophical  pursuits,  to  ex- 
plain intellectual  and  moral  phenomena  hy  the  analogy  of  the 
material  world. 

I before  took  notice  of  those  habits  of  inattention  to  the  sub- 
jects of  our  consciousness,  which  take  their  rise  in  that  period 
of  our  lives  when  we  are  necessarily  employed  in  acquiring  a 
knowledge  of  the  properties  and  laws  of  matter.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  early  familiarity  with  the  phenomena  of  the  ma- 
terial world,  they  appear  to  us  less  mysterious  than  those  of 
mind ; and  we  are  apt  to  think  tliat  we  have  advanced  one  step 
in  explaining  the  latter,  when  we  can  point  out  some  analogy 
between  them  and  the  former.  It  is  owing  to  the  same  circum- 
stance, that  we  have  scarcely  any  appropriated  language  with 


* [“  When  I speak,”  says  Crousaz,  in  his  Art  of  Thinking,  “ of  desire, 
contentment,  trouble,  apprehension,  doubt,  certainty,  of  affirming,  denying,  ap- 
proving, blaming,  — I pronounce  words  the  meaning  of  which  I distinctly 
understand ; and  yet  I do  not  represent  the  things  spoken  of  under  any 
image  or  corporeal  form.  While  the  intellect,  however,  is  thus  busy  about 
its  own  phenomena,  the  imagination  is  also  at  work  in  presenting  its  ana- 
logical theories ; but  so  far  from  aiding  us,  it  only  misleads  our  steps  and 
retards  our  progress.  Would  you  know  what  thought  is  1 It  is  precisely 
that  which  passes  within  you  when  you  think.  Stop  but  here,  and  you 
are  sufficiently  informed.  But  the  imagination,  eager  to  proceed  further, 
would  gratify  our  curiosit}'^  by  comparing  it  to  fire,  to  vapor,  or  to  other 
active  and  subtile  principles  in  the  material  world.  And  to  what  can  all 
this  tend,  but  to  divert  our  attention  from  what  thought  is,  and  to  fix  it 
upon  what  it  is  not  % ”] 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


respect  to  mind,  and  tliat  the  words  which  express  its  different 
operations,  are  almost  all  bon-owed  from  the  objects  of  our 
senses.*  It  must,  however,  appear  manifest,  upon  a very  little 
retlection,  that  as  the  two  subjects  are  essentially  distinct,  and 
as  each  of  them  has  its  peculiar  laws,  the  analogies  we  are 
pleased  to  fancy  between  them,  can  he  of  no  use  in  illustrating 
either ; and  that  it  is  no  less  unphilosophical  to  attempt  an  ex- 
planation of  Perception,  or  of  the  Association  of  Ideas,  upon 
mechanical  principles ; than  it  would  be  to  explain  the  phenom- 
ena of  gravitation,  by  supposing,  as  some  of  the  ancients  did, 
the  particles  of  matter  to  be  animated  with  principles  of  mo- 
tion ; or  to  explain  the  chemical  phenomena  of  elective  attrac- 
tions, by  supposing  the  substances  among  which  they  are  ob- 
served, to  be  endowed  with  thought  and  volition.  — The  analogy 
of  matter,  therefore,  can  be  of  no  use  in  the  inquiries  which  form 
the  object  of  the  following  work;  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  to  be 
guarded  against,  as  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  the  errors  to 
which  we  are  liable. 


* [“  If  we  critically  examine  any  language,  ancient  or  modern,  and  trace 
its  several  terms  or  phrases  to  their  source,  we  shall  find  it  hold  invariably, 
that  all  the  words  made  use  of  to  denote  spiritual  and  intellectual  things, 
are  in  their  origin  metaphors,  taken  from  objects  of.  sense.  This  shows 
evidently,  that  the  latter  [objects  of  sense]  have  made  the  earliest  impres- 
sions, have  by  consequence  first  obtained  names  in  every  tongue,  and  are 
still,  as  it  were,  more  present  with  us,  and  strike  the  imagination  more 
forcibly  than  the  former  [spiritual  and  intellectual  things.] 

Campbell’s  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  Book  III.  Chapter  i.  3. 

Numberless  instances  might  bo  given  ; but  a very  few  will  suffice.  Zm- 
agination  is  derived  from  an  optical  image;  acuteness,  from  a Latin  word 
signifying  the  sharpness  of  a material  instrument ; reflection,  from  bending 
hack  a ray  of  light ; apprehension  originally  meant  seizure,  or  taking  hold  of 
something  the  hand ; instil  means  to  drop  into;  spirit  is  breath;  animal 
and  animation,  (anima,  dvepog)  come  from  breath,  and  ultimately  from  wind; 
melancholy  means  black  bile;  faint-hearted  and  milk-livered  have  come  to 
mean  cowardly,  and  hard-hearted  to  mean  cruel;  understanding,  foresight,  in- 
ilination,  penetration,  etc.,  suggest  their  own  etymology.] 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


PART  IL 

OF  THE  UTILITY  OP  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  HUMAN  MIND. 

Connection  of  the  Arts  and  Sciences  with  each  other.  — It 
has  been  often  remarked,  that  there  is  a mutual  connection  be- 
tween the  different  arts  and  sciences ; and  that  the  improve- 
ments which  are  made  in  one  branch  of  human  knowledge,  fre- 
quently throw  light  on  others,  to  which  it  has  apparently  a very 
remote  relation.  The  modern  discoveries  in  astronomy  and  in 
pure  mathematics  have  contributed  to  bring  the  art  of  naviga- 
tion to  a degree  of  perfection  formerly  unknown.  The  rapid 
progress  which  has  been  lately  made  in  astronomy,  anatomy, 
and  botany,  has  been  chiefly  owing  to  the  aid  which  these  sci- 
ences have  received  fi’om  the  art  of  the  optician. 

Although,  however,  the  different  departments  of  science  and 
of  art  mutually  reflect  light  on  each  other,  it  is  not  always  nec- 
essary either  for  the  philosopher  or  the  artist  to  aim  at  the  ac- 
quisition of  general  knowledge.  Both  of  them  may  safely  take 
many  principles  for  granted,  without  being  able  to  demonstrate 
their  truth.  A seaman,  though  ignorant  of  mathematics,  may 
apply,  with  correctness  and  dexterity,  the  rules  for  finding  tlie 
longitude.  An  astronomer  or  a botanist,  though  ignorant  of 
ojitics,  may  avail  himself  of  the  use  of  the  telescope  or  the  mi- 
croscope. 

These  observations  are  daily  exemplified  in  the  case  of  the 
artist ; who  has  seldom  either  inclination  or  leisure  to  speculate 
concerning  the  principles  of  his  art.  It  is  rarely,  however,  we 
meet  with  a man  of  science  who  has  confined  his  studies  wholly 
to  one  branch  of  knowledge.  That  curiosity,  which  he  has  been 
accustomed  to  indulge  in  the  course  of  his  favorite  pursuit,  will 
naturally  extend  itself  to  every  remarkable  object  which  falls 
under  his  observation,  and  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  a source  of 
perpetual  dissatisfaction  to  his  mind,  till  it  has  been  so  far  grat- 
ified as  to  enable  him  to  explain  all  the  various  phenomena 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


which  his  professional  habits  are  every  day  presenting  to  his 
view. 

All  the  scieyices  and  all  human  employments  connected  with  the 
science  of  mind.  — As  every  particular  science  is  in  this  man- 
ner connected  with  others,  to  which  it  naturally  directs  the 
attention,  so  all  the  pursuits  of  life,  whether  they  terminate  in 
speculation  or  action,  are  connected  with  that  general  science 
wh'cli  has  the  human  mind  for  its  object.  The  powers  of  the 
understanding  are  instruments  which  all  men  employ ; and  his 
curiosity  must  be  small  indeed,  who  passes  through  life  in  total 
ignorance  of  faculties  which  his  wants  and  necessities  force  him 
habitually  to  exercise,  and  which  so  remarkably  distinguish  man 
from  the  lower  animals.*  The  phenomena  resulting  from  these 


* [“  ’T  is  evident/’  says  David  Hume,  “ that  all  the  sciences  have  a re- 
lation, greater  or  less,  to  human  nature,  and  that,  however  wide  any  of 
them  may  seem  to  run  from  it,  they  still  return  back  by  one  passage  or 
another.  Even  mathematics,  natural  philosophy,  and  natural  religion,  are  in 
some  measure  dependent  on  the  science  of  man ; since  they  lie  under  the 
cognizance  of  men,  and  are  judged  of  by  their  powers  and  faculties.'  It  is 
impossible  to  tell  what  changes  and  improvements  we  might  make  in 
tliese  sciences,  were  we  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  extent  and  force 
of  human  understanding,  and  could  explain  the  nature  of  the  ideas  we 
employ,  and  of  the  operations  we  perform  in  our  reasonings. 

“ If,  therefore,  the  sciences  of  mathematics,  natural  philosopdiy,  and 
natural  religion,  have  such  a dependence  on  the  knowledge  of  man,  what 
may  be  expected  in  the  other  sciences,  whose  connection  with  human  nOr 
tiire  is  more  close  and  intimate  ? The  sole  end  of  logic  is  to  explain  the 
principles  and  operations  of  our  reasoning  faculty,  and  the  nature  of  our 
ideas  ; morals  and  criticism  regard  our  tastes  and  sentiments  ; and  politics 
consider  men  as  united  in  society,  and  dependent  on  each  other.  In  these 
four  sciences  of  logic,  morals,  criticism,  and  politics,  is  comprehended 
almost  every  thing  which  it  can  any  way  import  us  to  be  acquainted  with, 
o"  which  can  tend  cither  to  the  improvement  or  ornament  of  the  human 
mind. 

“ Here,  then,  is  the  only  expedient  from  which  we  can  hope  for  success 
in  our  philosophical  researches ; to  leave  the  tedious,  lingering  method 
which  we  have  hitherto  followed  ; and  instead  of  taking,  now  and  then,  a 
castle  or  village  on  the  frontier,  to  march  up  directly  to  the  capital  or  cen- 
tre of  these  sciences,  to  human  nature  itself ; which  being  once  masters  of, 
wo  may  everywhere  else  hope  for  an  easy  victory.  E rom  this  station,  we 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


faculties  and  principles  of  the  mind,  are  every  moment  soliciting 
our  notice,  and  open  to  our  examination  a field  of  discovery  as 
inexhaustible  as  the  phenomena  of  the.  material  world,  and  ex- 
hibiting not  less  striking  marks  of  divine  wisdom. 

While  all  the  sciences  and  all  the  pursuits  of  life  have  this 
common  tendency  to  lead  our  inquiries  to  the  philosophy  of  hu- 
man nature,  this  last  branch  of  knowledge  harrows  its  'principles 
from  no  other  science  whatever.  Hence  there  is  something  in 
the  study  of  it  which  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  a reflecting  and 
inquisitive  mind,  and  something  in  the  conclusions  to  which  it 
leads  on  which  the  mind  rests  with  peculiar  satisfaction.  Till 
once  our  opinions  are  in  some  degree  fixed  with  respect  to  it, 
we  abandon  ourselves,  with  reluctance,  to  particular  scientific 
investigations ; and,  on  the  other  hand,  a general  knowledge  of 
such  of  its  principles  as  are  most  fitted  to  excite  the  curiosity, 
not  only  prepares  us  for  engaging  in  other  pursuits  with  more 
liberal  and  comprehensive  views,  but  leaves  us  at  liberty  to 
prosecute  them  with  a more  undivided  and  concentrated  at- 
tention. 

Direct  advantages  of  a study  of  the  phenomena  of  mind.  — It 
is  not,  however,  merely  as  a subject  of  speculative  curiosity  that 
the  pi-inciples  of  the  human  mind  deserve  a careful  examina- 
tion. The  advantages  to  be  exjiected  from  a successful  analysis 
of  it  are  various ; and  some  of  them  of  such  importance,  as  to 
render  it  astonishing,  that,  amidst  all  the  success  with  which  the 
subordinate  sciences  have  been  cultivated,  this,  which  compre- 
hends the  principles  of  all  of  them,  should  be  stiU  sufiered  to 
remain  in  its  infancy. 

I shall  endeavor  to  illustrate  a few  of  these  advantages,  be- 
ginning with  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  most  important  of 


may  extend  our  conquests  over  all  those  sciences  which  more  intimately 
concern  human  life,  and  may  afterward  proceed  at  leisure  to  discover  more 
fully  those  which  are  the  objects  of  pure  curiosity.  There  is  no  question 
of  importance  whose  decision  is  not  comprised  in  the  science  of  man  ; and 
there  is  none  which  can  be  decided  with  any  certainty,  before  we  become 
acquainted  with  that  science.”] 


2 


li 


INTRODUCTION. 


any ; the  light  which  a philosophical  analysis  of  the  principles 
of  the  mind  would  necessarily  throiu  on  the  subjects  of  intellectual 
and  moral  education. 

The  nature  and  purposes  of  education.  — Tlie  most  essential 
objects  of  education  are  the  two  following : First,  to  cultivate 
all  the  various  principles  of  our  nature,  both  speculative  and 
active,*  in  such  a manner  as  to  bring  them  to  the  greatest  per- 
fection of  which  they  are  susceptible  ; and,  secondly,  by  watch- 
ing over  the  impressions  and  associations  which  the  mind  re- 
ceives in  early  life,  to  secure  it  against  the  influence  of  prevail- 
ing errors  ; and,  as  far  as  possible,  to  engage  its  prepossessions 
on  the  side  of  truth.  It  is  only  upon  a philosophical  analysis 
of  the  mind,  that  a systematical  plan  can  be  founded  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  either  of  these  jiurposes. 

There  are  few  individuals  whose  education  has  been  con- 
ducted in  every  respect  with  attention  and  judgment.  Almost 
every  man  of  reflection  is  conscious,  when  he  arrives  at  matu- 
rity, of  many  defects  in  his  mental  powers,  and  of  many  in- 
convenient habits,  which  might  have  been  prevented  or  reme- 
died in  his  infancy  or  youth.  Such  a consciousness  is  the  first 
step  towards  improvement ; and  the  person  who  feels  it,  if  he 


* [By  the  speculative  principles  of  our  nature,  Stewart  here  means  the 
various  powers  or  faculties  of  the  intellect  or  the  understanding,  in  tlic  nar- 
rowest sense  of  these  terms ; sucli  as  the  faculties  of  perception,  memory, 
judgment,  imagination,  etc.  All  these  powers  we  might  conceive  to  he  in 
full  employment,  though  man  should  lead  a life  of  mere  contemplation  or 
reverie,  never  putting  forth  any  voluntary  exertion  whatsoever,  either  of 
mind  or  body.  What  Stewart  calls  the  active  principles  of  human  nature 
might  be  more  properly  termed  principles  of  action,  or  rather  impulses  to  ac- 
tion,— such  as  the  appetites,  desires,  affections,  self-love,  and  conscience. 
These  stimulate  us  to  exertion  ; these  point  out  ends  to  be  pursued,  while 
the  intellect  furnishes,  as  it  wore,  the  means  for  their  attainment. 

“ Reason  the  card,  but  passion  is  the  gale.” 

Stewart’s  phraseology  hero  is  faulty,  for  the  intellectual  powers,  such  as 
memory  and  imagination,  may  be  just  as  active  (that  is,  in  as  full  exercise,) 
as  the  appetites  or  the  conscience ; but  the  former  do  not  stimulate  man  to 
voluntary  exertion,  unless  they  are  conjoined  with  some  desire.] 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


is  possessed  of  resolution  and  steadiness,  will  not  scruple  to  be- 
gin, even  in  advanced  years,  a new  course  of  education  for  him- 
self. The  degree  of  reflection  and  observation,  mdeed,  which 
is  necessary  for  this  purpose,  cannot  be  expected  from  any  one 
at  a very  early  period  of  life,  as  these  are  the  last  powers  of  the 
mind  which  unfold  themselves ; but  it  is  never  too  late  to  think 
of  the  improvement  of  our  faculties ; and  much  progress  may 
be  made  in  the  art  of  applying  them  successfully  to  their  proper 
objects,  or  in  obviating  the  inconveniences  resulting  from  their 
imperfection,  not  only  in  manhood,  but  in  old  age. 

Injurious  effects  of  exclusive  addiction  to  one  employment  or 
pursuit.  — It  is  not,  however,  to  the  mistakes  of  our  early  in- 
structors, that  all  our  intellectual  defects  are  to  be  ascribed. 
There  is  no  profession  or  pursuit  which  has  not  habits  peculiar 
to  itseF,  and  which  does  not  leave  some  powers  of  the  mind  dor- 
mant, while  it  exercises  and  improves  the  rest.  If  we  wish, 
therefore,  to  cultivate  the  mind  to  the  extent  of  its  capacity,  we 
must  not  rest  satisfied  with  that  employment  which  its  faculties 
receive  from  our  particular  situation  in  life.  It  is  not  in  the  awk- 
ward and  professional  form  of  a mechanic,  who  has  strengthened 
particular  muscles  of  his  body  by  the  habits  of  his  trade,  that 
■w.e  are  to  look  for  the  perfection  of  our  animal  nature  ; neither 
is  it  among  men  of  confined  pursuits,  whether  speculative  or  ac- 
tive, that  we  are  to  expect  to  find  the  human  mind  in  its  highest 
state  of  cultivation.  A variety  of  exercises  is  necessary  to  pre- 
serve the  animal  frame  in  vigor  and  beauty ; and  a variety  of 
those  occupations  which  literature  and  science  aflTord,  added  to 
a promiscuous  intercourse  with  the  world,  in  the  habits  of  con- 
versation and  business,  is  no  less  necessary  for  the  improvement 
of  the  understanding.  I acknowledge,  that  there  are  some  pro- 
fessions in  which  a man  of  very  confined  acquisitions  may  arrive 
at  the  first  eminence,  and  in  which  he  will  perhaps  be  the  more 
likely  to  excel,  the  more  he  has  concentrated  the  whole  force  of 
his  mind  to  one  particular  object.  But  such  a person,  however 
distinguished  in  his  own  sphere,  is  educated  merely  to  be  a lite- 
rary artisan,  and  neither  attains  the  perfection  nor  the  happi- 
ness of  his  nature.  “ That  education  only  can  be  considered  as 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


complete  and  generous,  wliich”  (in  the  language  of  Milton) 
“ fits  a man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and  magnanimously,  all 
the  ofiices,  both  private  and  public,  of  peace  and  of  war.” 

. I hope  it  will  not  he  supposed,  from  the  foregoing  observa- 
tions, that  they  are  meant  to  recommend  an  indiscriminate  at- 
tention to  all  the  objects  of  speculation  and  of  action.  Nothing 
can  be  more  evident,  than  the  necessity  of  limiting  the  field  of 
our  exertion,  if  we  wish  to  benefit  society  by  our  labors.  But 
it  is  pei’fectly  consistent  with  the  most  intense  application  to 
our  favorite  pursuit,  to  cultivate  that  general  acquamtance  with 
letters  and  with  the  world  which  may  be  sufficient  to  enlarge 
the  mind,  and  to  preserve  it  from  any  danger  of  contracting  the 
pedantry  of  a particular  profession.  In  many  cases,  (as  was 
already  remarked,)  the  sciences  reflect  light  on  each  other; 
and  the  general  acquisitions,  which  we  have  made  in  other  pur- 
suits, may  furnish  us  with  useful  helps  for  the  further  prosecu- 
tion of  our  own.  But  even  in  those  instances  in  which  the  case 
is  otherwise,  and  in  which  these  liberal  accomplishments  must 
be  purchased  by  the  sacrifice  of  a part  of  our  professional  emi- 
nence, the  acquisition  of  them  will  amply  repay  any  loss  we 
may  sustain.  It  ought  not  to  be  the  leading  object  of  any  one, 
to  become  an  eminent  metaphysician,  mathematician,  or  poet, 
hut  to  render  himself  happy  as  an  individual,  and  an  agreeable, 
a respectable,  and  a useful  member  of  society.  A man  who 
loses  his  sight,  improves  the  sensibility  of  his  touch;  but  who 
would  consent,  for  such  a recompense,  to  part  with  the  pleasures 
which  he  receives  from  the  eye  ? 

Light  thrown  hy  the  'philosophy  of  mind  upon  the  theory  and 
practice  of  education.  — It  is  almost  unnecessary  for  me  to  re- 
mark, how  much  individuals  would  be  assisted  in  the  proper  and 
liberal  culture  of  the  mind,  if  they  were  previously  led  to  take 
a comprehensive  survey  of  human  nature  in  all  its  parts  ; of  its 
various  faculties,  and  powers,  and  sources  of  enjoyment,  and  of 
the  effects  which  are  produced  on  these  principles  by  particular 
situations.  It  is  such  a knowledge  alone  of  the  capacities  of 
the  mind,  that  can  enable  a person  to  judge  of  his  own  acquisi- 
tions, and  to  employ  the  most  effectual  means  for  supplying  his 


INTBODUCTION. 


17 


defects  and  removing  his  inconvenient  habits.  Without  some 
degree  of  it,  every  man  is  in  danger  of  contracting  had  habits 
before  he  is  aware,  and  of  suffering  some  of  his  powers  to  go  to 
decay,  for  want  of  proper  exercise. 

If  the  business  of  early  education  were  more  thoroughly  and 
more  generally  understood,  it  would  be  less  necessary  for  indi- 
viduals, when  they  arrive  at  maturity,  to  form  plans^of  improve- 
ment for  themselves.  But  education  never  can  be  systemat- 
ically directed  to  its  proper  objects,  till  we  have  obtained,  not 
only  an  accurate  analysis  of  the  general  principles  of  our  na- 
ture, and  an  account  of  the  most  important  laws  which  regulate 
their  operation  ; but  an  explanation  of  the  various  modifications 
and  combinations  of  these  principles,  which  produce  that  diver- 
sity of  talents,  genius,  and  character,  we  observe  among  men. 
To  instruct  youth  in  the  languages  and  in  the  sciences  is  com- 
paratively of  little  importance,  if  we  are  inattentive  to  the  hab- 
its they  acquire,  and  are  not  careful  in  giving  to  all  their  differ- 
ent faculties,  and  all  their  different  principles  of  action,  a proper 
degree  of  employment.  Abstracting  entirely  from  the  culture 
of  their  moral  powers,  how  extensive  and  difficult  is  the  busi- 
ness of  conducting  their  intellectual  improvement ! To  watch 
over  the  associations  which  they  form  in  their  tender  years  ; to 
give  them  early  habits  of  mental  activity ; to  rouse  their  curi- 
osity, and  to  direct  it  to  proper  objects ; to  exercise  their  inge- 
nuity and  invention ; to  cultivate  in  their  minds  a turn  for 
speculation,  and  at  the  same  time  preserve  their  attention  ahve 
to  the  objects  around  them ; to  awaken  their  sensibilities  to  the 
beauties  of  nature,  and  to  inspire  them  with  a relish  for  intel- 
lectual enjoyment;  — these  form  but  a part  of  the  business  of 
education,  and  yet  the  execution  even  of  this  part  requires  an 
acquaintance  with  the  general  principles  of  our  nature,  which 
seldom  falls  to  the  share  of  those  to  whom  the  instruction  of 
youth  is  commonly  intrusted. 

Nor  will  such  a theoretical  knowledge  of  the  human  mind  as 
I have  now  described,  be  always  sufficient  in  practice.  An  un- 
common degree  of  sagacity  is  frequently  requisite,  in  order  to 
accommodate  general  rules  to  particular  tempers  and  charac- 
2* 


18 


INTRODUCTION. 


tei'S.  In  whatever  way  we  choose  to  account  for  it,  whether  by 
original  organization  or  by  the  operation  of  moral  causes  in  very 
early  infancy,  no  fact  can  be  more  undeniable,  than  that  there 
are  important  differences  discernible  in  the  minds  of  children, 
previous  to  that  period  at  which,  in  general,  their  intellectual 
education  commences.  There  is,  too,  a certain  hereditary  char- 
acter (whether  resulting  from  physical  constitution,  or  caught 
from  imitation  and  the  influence  of  situation)  which  appears  re- 
markably in  particular  families.  One  race,  for  a succession  of 
generations,  is  distinguished  by  a genius  for  the  abstract  sci- 
ences, while  it  is  deficient  in  vivacity,  in  imagination,  and  in 
taste ; another  is  no  less  distinguished  for  wit,  and  gaiety,  and 
fancy ; while  it  appears  incapable  of  patient  attention  or  of  pro- 
found research.  The  system  of  education  which  is  proper  to 
be  adopted  in  particular  cases,  ought  undoubtedly  to  have  some 
reference  to  these  circumstances,  and  to  be  calculated,  as  much 
as  possible,  to  develop  and  to  cherish  those  intellectual  and  ac- 
tive principles  in  wliich  a natural  deficiency  is  most  to  be  ap- 
preliended.  Montesquieu,  and  other  speculative  politicians, 
have  insisted  much  on  the  reference  which  education  and  laws 
should  have  to  climate.  I shall  not  take  upon  me  to  say  how 
far  their  conclusions  on  this  subject  are  just ; but  I am  fully 
persuaded,  that  there  is  a foundation  in  philosophy  and  good 
sense  for  accommodating,  at  a very  eaidy  period  of  life,  the  edu- 
cation of  individuals  to  those  particular  turns  of  mind  to  which, 
from  hereditary  propensities,  or  from  moral  situation,  they  may 
be  presumed  to  have  a natural  tendency. 

There  are  few  subjects  more  hackneyed  than  that  of  educa- 
tion ; and  yet  there  is  none,  upon  which  the  opinions  of  the 
world  are  still  more  divided.  Nor  is  this  surprising  ; for  most 
of  those  who  have  speculated  concerning  it,  have  confined  their 
attention  chiefly  to  incidental  questions  about  the  comparative 
advantage  of  public  or  private  instruction,  or  the  utility  of  par- 
ticular languages  or  sciences ; without  attempting  a previous 
examination  of  those  faculties  and  principles  of  the  mind,  which 
it  is  the  great  object  of  education  to  improve.  Many  excellent 
detached  observations,  indeed,  both  on  the  intellectual  and  moral 


INTRODUCTION. 


19 


powers,  ai’e  to  be  collected  from  the  writings  of  ancient  and 
modern  authors ; but  I do  not  know,  that,  in  any  language,  an 
attempt  has  been  made  to  analyze  and  illustrate  the  principles 
of  human  nature,  in  order  to  lay  a philosophical  foundation  for 
their  proper  culture. 

The  usefulness  of  systematic  and  thorough  education  defended. 
— I have  even  heard  some  very  ingenious  and  intelligent  men 
dispute  the  propriety  of  so  systematical  a plan  of  instruction. 
The  most  successful  and  splendid  exertions,  both  in  the  sciences 
and  arts,  (it  has  been  frequently  remarked,)  have  been  made 
by  individuals,  in  whose  minds  the  seeds  of  genius  were  allowed 
to  shoot  up  wild  and  free ; while,  from  the  most  careful  and 
skilful  tuition,  seldom  any  thing  results  above  mediocrity.  I 
shall  not,  at  present,  enter  into  any  discussions  with  respect  to 
the  certainty  of  the  fact  on  which  this  opinion  is  founded.  Sup- 
posing the  fact  to  be  completely  established,  it  must  still  be  re- 
membered, that  originality  of  genius  does  not  always  imply  vigor 
and  comprehensiveness  and  liberality  of  mind ; and  that  it  is 
desirable  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  compatible  with  these  more  val- 
uable qualities.  I have  already  hinted,  that  there  ai’e  some 
pursuits,  in  which,  as  they  require  the  exertion  only  of  a small 
number  of  our  faculties,  an  individual,  who  has  a natural  turn 
for  them,  will  be  more  likely  to  distinguish  himself,  by  being 
suffered  to  follow  his  original  bias,  than  if  his  attention  were  dis- 
tracted by  a more  liberal  course  of  study.  But  wherever  such 
men  are  to  be  found,  they  must  be  considered,  on  the  most 
favorable  supposition,  as  having  sacrificed,  to  a certain  degree, 
the  perfection  and  the  happiness  of  their  nature,  to  the  amuse- 
ment or  instruction  of  others.  It  is,  too,  in  times  of  general 
darkness  and  barbarism,  that  what  is  commonly  called  original- 
ity of  genius  most  frequently  appears : and  surely  the  great  aim 
of  an  enlightened  and  benevolent  philosophy  is,  not  to  rear  a 
small  number  of  individuals,  who  may  be  regarded  as  prodigies 
in  an  ignorant  and  admiring  age,  but  to  diffuse,  as  widely  as 
possible,  that  degree  of  cultivation  which  may  enable  the  bulk 
of  a people  to  possess  all  the  intellectual  and  moral  improve- 
ment of  which  their  nature  is  susceptible.  “ Original  genius,* 


20 


INTRODUCTION. 


(says  Voltaire)  “ occurs  but  seldom  in  a nation  where  the  liter- 
ary taste  is  formed.  The  number  of  cultivated  minds  which 
there  abound,  like  the  trees  in  a thick  and  flourishing  forest, 
prevent  any  single  individual  from  rearmg  his  head  far  above 
the  rest.  Where  trade  is  in  few  hands,  we  meet  with  a small 
number  of  overgrown  fortunes  in  the  midst  of  a general  pov- 
erty; in  proportion  as  it  extends,  opulence  becomes  general, 
and  great  fortunes  rare.  It  is  precisely  because  there  is,  at 
present,  much  light  and  much  cultivation  in  France,  that  we 
are  led  to  complain  of  the  want  of  superior  genius.” 

Hoio  far  education  conduces  to  happiness.  — To  what  purpose, 
indeed,  it  may  be  said,  is  all  this  labor  ? Is  not  the  impor- 
tance of  every  thing  to  man  to  be  ultimately  estimated  by  its 
tendency  to  promote  his  happiness  ? And  is  not  our  daily  ex- 
perience sufficient  to  convince  us,  that  tliis  is,  in  general,  by  no 
means  proportioned  to  the  culture  which  his  nature  has  re- 
ceived ? Nay,  is  there  not  some  ground  for  suspecting,  that  the 
lower  orders  of  men  enjoy,  on  the  whole,  a more  enviable  con  • 
dition,  than  their  more  enlightened  and  refined  superiors  ? 

The  truth,  I apprehend,  is,  that  happiness,  in  so  far  as  it 
ai'ises  from  the  mind  itself,  wiU  be  always  proportioned  to  the 
degree  of  perfection  which  its  powers  have  attained ; but  that, 
in  cultivating  these  powers  with  a view  to  tliis  most  important 
of  all  objects,  it  is  essentially  necessary  that  such  a degree  of 
attention  be  bestowed  on  all  of  them,  as  may  preserve  them 
in  that  state  of  relative  strength,  which  appears  to  be  agree- 
able to  the  intentions  of  nature.  In  consequence  of  an  ex- 
clusive attention  to  the  culture  of  the  imagination,  the  taste,  the 
reasoning  facidty,  or  any  of  the  active  principles,  it  is  possible 
that  the  pleasures  of  human  life  may  he  diminished,  or  its  pains 
increased;  hut  the  inconveniences  which  are  experienced  in  such 
cases  are  not  to  he  ascribed  to  education,  hut  to  a partial  and  in- 
judicious education.  In  such  cases,  it  is  possible  that  the  jioet, 
the  metaphysician,  or  the  man  of  taste  and  refinement,  may  ap- 
pear to  disadvantage  when  compared  with  the  vulgar ; for  such 
is  the  benevolent  appointment  of  Providence  with  respect  to  the 
lower  orders,  that,  althc  ugh  not  one  pi'inciple  of  their  nature  be 


INTROCUCTION. 


21 


completely  unfolded,  the  whole  of  these  principles  preserve 
among-  themselves  that  balance  which  is  favorable  to  the  tran- 
quillity of  then-  minds,  and  to  a prudent  and  steady  conduct  in 
the  limited  sphere  which  is  assigned  to  them,  far  more  com- 
pletely than  those  of  their  superiors,  whose  education  has  been 
conducted  on  an  eiToneous  or  imperfect  system : but  all  this, 
far  from  weakening  the  force  of  the  foregoing  observations,  only 
serves  to  demonstrate  how  impossible  it  always  will  be,  to  form 
a rational  plan  for  the  improvement  of  the  mind  without  an  ac- 
curate and  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  the 
human  constitution. 

That  the  memory,  the  imagination,  or  the  reasoning  faculty 
are  to  be  instantly  strengthened  in  consequence  of  our  specula- 
tions concerning  their  nature,  it  would  be  absurd  to  suppose ; 
but  it  is  surely  far  from  being  unreasonable  to  think,  that  an 
acquaintance  ^vith  the  laws  which  regulate  these  powers  may 
suggest  some  useful  rules  for  their  gradual  cultivation,  for  rem- 
edying their  defects  in  the  case  of  individuals,  and  even  for  ex- 
tending those  limits  which  nature  seems,  at  first  view,  to  have 
assigned  them. 

To  how  great  a degree  of  perfection  the  intellectual  and  moral 
nature  of  man  is  capable  of  being  raised  by  cultivation,  it  is 
difiicult  to  conceive.  The  elFects  of  early,  continued,  and  sys- 
tematical education  in  the  case  of  those  children  who  are  trained, 
for  the  sake  of  gain,  to  feats  of  strength  and  agility,  justify,  per- 
haps, the  most  sanguine  views  which  it  is  possible  for  a phi- 
losopher to  form  with  respect  to  the  improvement  of  the 
species. 

The  Philosophy  of  3Iind  enables  zis  to  control  early  impressions 
and  associations.  — I now  proceed  to  consider,  how  far  the  phi- 
losophy of  mind  may  be  useful  in  accomplishing  the  second  ob- 
ject of  education ; by  assisting  us  in  the  management  of  early 
impressions  and  associations. 

By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  opinions  on  which  we  act  in 
life,  are  not  the  result  of  our  own  investigations ; but  are  adopted 
implicitly,  in  infancy  and  youth,  upon  the  authority  of  others. 
Even  the  great  principles  of  morahty,  although  implanted  in 


22 


INTRODUCTION. 


every  heart,  are  commonly  aided  and  cherished,  at  least  to  a 
certain  degree,  by  the  care  of  our  instructors.  All  tliis  is  un- 
doubtedly agreeable  to  the  intentions  of  nature;  and,  indeed, 
were  the  case  otherwise,  society  could  not  subsist ; for  nothing 
can  be  more  evident,  than  that  the  bulk  of  mankind,  condemned 
as  they  are  to  laborious  occupations,  which  are  incompatible 
with  intellectual  imjirovement,  are  perfectly  incapable  of  form- 
ing their  opinions  on  some  of  the  most  important  subjects  that 
can  employ  the  human  mind.  It  is  evident,  at  the  same  time, 
that  as  no  system  of  education  is  perfect,  a variety  of  prejudices 
must,  in  this  way,  take  an  early  hold  of  our  belief ; so  as  to  ac- 
quire over  it  an  influence  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  most  incon- 
trovertible truths.  When  a child  hears  either  a speculative 
absurdity,  or  an  erroneous  principle  of  action,  recommended  and 
enforced  daily,  by  the  same  voice  which  first  conveyed  to  it 
those  simple  and  sublime  lessons  of  morality  and  religion  which 
are  congenial  to  its  nature,  is  it  to  he  wondered  at,  that,  in 
future  life,  it  should  find  it  so  difiicult  to  eradicate  prejudices 
which  have  twined  their  roots  with  all  the  essential  principles 
of  the  human  frame  ? — If  such,  however,  he  the  obvious  inten- 
tions of  nature,  with  respect  to  those  orders  of  men  who  are 
employed  in  bodily  labor,  it  is  equally  clear,  that  she  meant  to 
impose  it  as  a double  obligation  on  those  who  receive  the  advan- 
tages of  a liberal  education,  to  examine,  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous care,  the  foundation  of  all  those  received  opinions  which 
have  any  connection  with  morality,  or  with  human  happiness. 
If  the  multitude  must  be  led,  it  is  of  consequence,  surely,  that 
it  should  be  led  by  enlightened  conductors ; by  men  who  are 
able  to  distinguish  truth  from  error,  and  to  draw  the  line  be- 
tween those  prejudices  which  are  innocent  or  salutary,  (if 
indeed  there  are  any  prejudices  which  are  really  salutary,)  and 
those  which  are  hostile  to  the  interests  of  virtue  and  of  man- 
kind. 

Necessity  of  unlea/rning  early  errors.  — In  such  a state  of 
society  as  that  in  which  we  live,  the  prejudices  of  a moral,  a 
political,  and  a religious  nature,  which  we  imbibe  in  early  hfe, 
are  so  various,  and  at  the  same  time  so  intimately  blended  with 


INTRODUCTION. 


23 


the  belief  we  entertain  of  the  most  sacred  and  important  truths, 
that  a great  part  of  the  life  of  a philosopher  must  necessarily  he 
devoted,  not  so  much  to  the  acquisition  of  new  knowledge,  as  to 
unlearn  the  errors  to  which  he  had  been  taught  to  give  an  im- 
plicit assent  before  the  dawn  of  reason  and  reflection.  And 
unless  he  submit  in  this  manner  to  bring  aU  his  opinions  to  the 
test  of  a severe  examination,  his  mgenuity  and  his  learning, 
instead  of  enlightening  the  world,  wiU  only  enable  him  to  give 
an  additional  currency,  and  an  additional  authority,  to  estab- 
bshed  errors.  To  attempt  such  a struggle  against  early  preju- 
dices is,  indeed,  the  professed  aim  of  all  philosophers  ; but  how 
few  are  to  be  found  who  have  force  of  mind  sufficient  for  accom- 
phshing  their  object ; and  who,  in  freeing  themselves  from  one 
set  of  errors,  do  not  allow  themselves  to  be  carried  away  with 
another  ? To  succeed  in  it  completely,  Lord  Bacon  seems  to 
have  thought,  (in  one  of  the  most  remarkable  passages  of  his 
writmgs,)  to  be  more  than  can  well  be  expected  from  human 
^-ailty. 

Philosophy  guards  us  against  general  shepticism.  — Nor  is  it 
joaerely  in  order  to  free  the  mind  from  the  influence  of  error, 
that  it  is  useful  to  examine  the  foundation  of  estabhshed  opin- 
ions. It  is  such  an  examination  alone,  that,  in  an  inquisitive 
age  like  the  present,  can  secure  a philosopher  from  the  danger 
of  unlimited  skepticism.  To  this  extreme,  indeed,  the  com- 
plexion of  the  times  is  more  likely  to  give  him  a tendency,  than 
to  implicit  credulity.  In  the  former  ages  of  ignorance  and 
superstition,  the  intimate  association  which  had  been  formed,  in 
the  prevailing  systems  of  education,  between  truth  and  error,  had 
given  to  the  latter  an  ascendant  over  the  minds  of  men,  which 
it  could  never  have  acquired,  if  divested  of  such  an  alliance. 
The  case  has,  of  late  years,  been  most  remarkably  -reversed ; 
the  common  sense  of  mankind,  in  consequence  of  the  growth  of 
a more  liberal  spirit  of  inquiry,  has  revolted  against  many  of 
those  absurdities,  which  had  so  long  held  human  reason  in  cap- 
tivity ; and  it  was,  perhaps,  more  than  could  reasonably  have 
been  expected,  that,  in  the  first  moments  of  their  emancipation, 
philosophers  should  have  stopped  short  at  the  precise  boundary, 


24 


INTRODUCTION. 


which  cooler  reflection,  find  more  moderate  views,  would  have 
prescribed.  The  fact  is,  that  they  have  passed  far  beyond  it ; 
and  that,  in  their  zeal  to  destroy  prejudices,  they  have  attempted 
to  tear  up  by  the  roots  many  of  the  best  and  happiest  and  most 
essential  principles  of  our  nature.  Having  remai’ked  the  pow- 
erful influence  of  education  over  the  mind,  they  have  concluded, 
that  man  is  wholly  a factitious  being ; not  recollecting,  that  this 
very  susceptibility  of  education  presupposes  certain  original 
princijflcs,  which  are  common  to  the  whole  species;  and  that, 
as  eri’or  can  only  take  a permanent  hold  upon  a candid  mind 
by  being  grafted  on  truths,  which  it  is  unwilling  or  unable  to 
ej’adicate,  even  the  influence,  which  false  and  absurd  opinions 
occasionally  acquire  over  the  belief,  instead  of  being  an  argu- 
ment for  universal  skepticism,  is  the  most  decisive  argument 
against  it ; inasmuch  as  it  shows,  that  there  are  some  truths  so 
incorporated  and  identified  with  our  nature,  tliat  they  can  recon- 
cile us  even  to  the  absurdities  and  contradictions  with  which  we 
suppose  them  to  be  inseparably  connected.  Tlie  skeptical  phi- 
losophers, for  example,  of  the  present  age,  have  frequently  at- 
tempted to  hold  up  to  ridicule  those  contemptible  and  puerile 
superstitions,  which  have  disgraced  the  creeds  of  some  of  the 
most  enlightened  nations,  and  which  have  not  only  commanded 
the  assent,  but  the  revei’ence,  of  men  of  the  most  accomphshed 
understandings.  But  these  histories  of  human  imbecility  are, 
in  truth,  the  strongest  testimonies  which  can  he  produced,  to 
prove  how  wonderful  is  the  influence  of  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  morality  over  the  belief ; when  they  are  able  to  sanc- 
tify, in  the  apprehensions  of  mankind,  every  extravagant  opin- 
ion, and  every  unmeaning  ceremony,  which  early  education  has 
taught  us  to  associate  with  them. 

Faehh  and  impMJosophical  minds  exposed  hoth  to  credidity  and 
shpticism. — That  implicit  credulity  is  a mark  of  a feeble  mind, 
will  not  be  disputed ; but  it  may  not  perhaps  be  as  generally 
acknowledged,  that  the  case  is  the  same  with  unlimited  skepti- 
cism : on  the  contrary,  we  ai’e  sometimes  apt  to  ascribe  this  dis- 
position to  a more  than  ordinary  vigor  of  intellect.  Such  a 
prejudice  was  by  no  means  unnatui-al  at  that  period  in  the  his- 


INTRODUCTION. 


25 


tory  of  modern  Europe,  when  reason  first  began  to  throw  off 
the  yoke  of  authority ; and  when  it  uncpiestionably  required  a 
superiority  of  understanding,  as  well  as  of  intrepidity,  for  an  in- 
dividual to  resist  the  contagion  of  prevailing  superstition.  But 
in  the  present  age,  in  which  the  tendency  of  fashionable  opin- 
ions is  directly  opposite  to  those  of  the  vulgar,  the  philosophi- 
cal creed,  or  the  philosophical  skepticism  of  by  fai'  the  greater 
number  of  those  who  value  themselves  on  an  emancipation  from 
popular  errors,  arises  from  the  very  same  weakness  with  the 
credulity  of  the  multitude  : nor  is  it  going  too  far  to  say,  with 
Rousseau,  that,  “ He  who,  in  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
has  brought  himself  to  abandon  all  his  early  principles  without 
discrimination,  w^ould  probably  have  been  a bigot  in  the  days 
of  the  League.”  In  the  midst  of  these  contrary  impulses,  of 
fashionable  and  vulgar  prejudices,  he  alone  evinces  the  supe- 
riority and  the  strength  of  his  mind,  who  is  able  to  disentangle 
truth  from  error ; and  to  oppose  the  clear  conclusions  of  liis 
own  unbiassed  faculties,  to  tlie  united  clamors  of  superstition 
and  of  false  philosophy.  Such  are  the  men,  whom  nature 
marks  out  to  be  the  lights  of  the  world,  to  fix  the  wavering 
opinions  of  the  multitude,  and  to  impress  their  own  characters 
on  that  of  their  age. 

For  securing  the  mind  completely  from  the  weakness  I have 
now  been  describing,  and  enabling  it  to  maintain  a steady  course 
of  inquiry  between  implicit  credulity  and  unlimited  skepticism, 
tlie  most  important  of  all  qualities  is  a sincere  and  devoted  at- 
tachment to  truth  ; which  seldom  fails  to  be  accompanied  with 
a manly  confidence  in  the  clear  conclusions  of  human  reason. 
It  is  such  a confidence,  united  (as  it  generally  is)  with  personal 
intrepidity,  which  forms  what  the  French  writers  call  force  of 
character ; one  of  the  rarest  endowments,  it  must  be  confessed, 
of  our  species  ; but  which,  of  all  endowments,  is  the  most  essen- 
tial for  rendering  a philosopher  happy  in  himself,  and  a bless- 
ing to  mankind. 

Enlightened  education  in  youth  the  best  freservative  against 
scepticism.  — F rom  the  observations  which  have  been  made,  it 
sufficiently  appears,  that,  in  order  to  secure  the  mind,  on  the  one 

3 


26 


INTRODUCTION. 


hand,  from  the  inflnence  of  prejudice,  and  on  the  other,  from  a 
tendency  to  unlimited  skepticism,  it  is  necessary  that  it  should 
be  able  to  distinguish  the  original  and  universal  principles  and 
laws  of  human  nature  from  the  adventitious  effect  of  local  situ- 
ation. But  if,  in  the  case  of  an  individual  who  has  received  an 
imperfect  or  erroneous  education,  such  a knowledge  puts  it  in 
his  power  to  correct,  to  a certain  degree,  his  own  bad  habits, 
and  to  surmount  his  own  speculative  errors,  it  enables  him  to 
be  useful,  in  a much’  higher  degree,  to  those  whose  education  he 
has  an  opportunity  of  superintending  from  early  infancy.  Such, 
and  so  permanent,  is  the  effect  of  first  impressions  on  the  char- 
acter, that,  although  a philosopher  may  succeed,  by  persever- 
ance, in  freeing  his  reason  from  the  prejudices  with  which  it 
was  entangled,  thej’'  will  still  retain  some  hold  of  his  imagina- 
tion and  his  affections ; and,  therefore,  however  enlightened  his 
understanding  may  be  in  his  hours  of  speculation,  his  philo- 
sophical opinions  will  frequently  lose  their  influence  over  his 
mind,  in  those  vei’y  situations  in  which  their  practical  assistance 
is  most  required ; when  his  temper  is  soured  by  misfortune,  or 
when  he  engages  in  the  pursuits  of  life,  and  exposes  himself  to 
the  contagion  of  popular  eri’ors.  His  opinions  are  supported 
merely  by  speculative  arguments ; and,  instead  of  being  con- 
nected witli  any  of  the  active  principles  of  his  nature,  are  coun- 
teracted and  thwarted  by  some  of  the  most  powerful  of  them. 
How  different  would  the  case  be,  if  education  were  conducted 
from  the  beginning  with  attention  and  judgment ! Were  the 
same  pains  taken  to  impress  truth  on  the  mind  in  early  infancy, 
that  are  often  taken  to  inculcate  error,  the  great  principles  of  our 
conduct  would  not  only  be  juster  than  they  are,  but,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  aid  which  they  would  receive  from  the  imagina- 
tion and  the  heart,  trained  to  conspire  with  them  in  the  same 
direction,  they  would  render  us  happier  in  ourselves,  and  would 
influence  our  practice  more  powerfully  and  more  habitually. 
There  is  surely  nothing  in  eiTor  which  is  more  congenial  to  the 
mind  than  truth.  On  the  contrary,  when  exhibited  separately 
and  alone  to  the  understanding,  it  sliocks  our  reason  and  pro- 
Yokes  our  ridicule ; and  it  is  only  (as  I had  occasion  akeady  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


27 


remark)  by  an  alliance  with  truths  which  we  find  it  difilcult  to 
renounce,  that  it  can  obtain  our  assent  or  command  our  rever- 
ence. What  advantages,  then,  might  be  derived  from  a proper 
attention  to  early  impressions  and  associations,  in  giving  sup- 
port to  those  principles  which  are  connected  with  human  hap- 
piness ? The  long  reign  of  error  in  the  world,  and  the  influence 
it  maintains,  even  in  an  age  of  liberal  inquiry,  far  from  being 
favorable  to  the  supposition,  that  human  reason  is  destined  to 
be  forever  the  sport  of  prejudice  and  absurdity,  demonstrates 
the  tendency  which  there  is  to  permanence  in  established  opin- 
ions and  in  established  institutions,  and  promises  an  eternal 
stability  to  true  philosophy,  when  it  shall  once  have  acquired 
the  ascendant,  and  when  proper  means  shall  be  employed  to 
support  it  by  a more  perfect  system  of  education. 

Our  daily  experience  may  convince  us,  how  susceptible  the 
tender  mind  is  of  deep  impressions,  and  what  important  and 
permanent  effects  are  produced  on  the  characters  and  the  hap- 
piness of  mdividuals,  by  the  casual  associations  formed  in  child- 
hood among  the  various  ideas,  feelings,  and  affections  with 
which  they  were  habitually  occupied.  It  is  the  business  of  ed- 
ucation not  to  counteract  this  constitution  of  nature,  but  to  give 
it  a proper  direction ; and  the  miserable  consequences  to  which 
it  leads,  when  under  an  improper  regulation,  only  show  what  an 
important  instrument  of  human  improvement  it  might  be  ren- 
dered in  more  skilful  hands.  If  it  be  possible  to  interest  the 
imagination  and  the  heart  in  favor  of  error,  it  is,  at  least,  no  less 
possible  to  interest  them  in  favor  of  truth.  If  it  be  possible  to 
extinguish  all  the  most  generous  and  heroic  feelings  of  our  na- 
ture, by  teaching  us  to  connect  the  idea  of  them  with  those  of 
gnilt  and  impiety,  it  is  surely  equally  possible  to  cherish  and 
strengthen  them,  by  establishing  the  natural  alliance  between 
our  duty  and  our  happiness.  If  it  be  possible  for  the  influence 
of  fashion  to  veil  the  native  deformity  of  vice,  and  to  give  to 
low  and  criminal  indulgences  the  appearance  of  spirit,  of  ele- 
gance, and  of  gaiety,  can  we  doubt  of  the  possibility  of  connect- 
ing, in  the  tender  mind,  these  pleasing  associations  with  pur- 
suits that  arc  truly  worthy  and  honorable  ? 


28 


INTRODUCTION. 


A complicated  creed  exposes  one,  hj  reaction,  to  general  skepti- 
cism.— I shall  conclude  this  subject  with  remarking,  that,  al- 
though in  all  moral  and  religious  systems  there  is  a great  mix- 
ture of  imjiortant  truth,  and  although  it  is  in  consequence  of  this 
alliance  that  errors  and  absurdities  are  enabled  to  preserve  their 
hold  of  the  belief,  yet  it  is  commonly  found,  that,  in  proportion 
as  an  established  creed  is  complicated  in  its  dogmas  and  in  its 
ceremonies,  and  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  accessory  ideas 
which  it  has  grafted  upon  the  truth,  the  more  difficult  is  it  for 
those  who  have  adopted  it  in  childhood  to  emancipate  them- 
selves completely  from  its  influence ; and  in  those  cases  in 
which  they  at  last  succeed,  the  greater  is  their  danger  of  aban- 
doning, along  with  their  errors,  all  the  truths  which  they  had 
been  taught  to  connect  with  them.  The  Roman  Catholic  sys- 
tem is  shaken  off  with  much  greater  difficulty  than  those  which 
are  taught  in  the  Reformed  churches ; but  when  it  loses  its 
hold  on  the  mind,  it  much  more  frequently  prepares  the  way 
for  unlimited  skepticism.  The  cause  of  this  I may,  perhaps, 
have  an  opportunity  of  pointing  out,  in  treating  of  the  Associa- 
tion of  Ideas.* 


* [Sir  William  Hamilton  places  the  usefulness  of  the  Philosophj^  of 
Mind,  considered  as  a means  of  education,  on  different,  and,  as  we  think, 
better  chosen,  grounds. 

“On  this  ground,”  he  says,  “we  rest  the  preeminent  utility  of  meta- 
physical speculations.  That  they  comprehend  all  the  sublimest  objects  of 
our  theoretical  and  moral  interest ; — that  every  natural  conclusion  con- 
cerning God,  the  soul,  the  present  worth,  and  the  future  destiny  of  man, 
is  exclusively  metaphysical,  will  be  at  once  admitted.  But  we  do  not 
found  the  importance  on  the  paramount  dignity  of  the  pursuit.  It  is  as 
the  best  gymnastic  of  the  mind,  — as  a means,  principally  and  almost  exclu- 
sively conducive  to  the  highest  education  of  our  noblest  powers,  that  we 
would  vindicate  to  these  speculations  the  necessity  which  has  too  fre- 
quently been  denied  them.  By  no  other  intellectual  application,  (and, 
least  of  all,  hj  physical  pursuits,)  is  the  soul  thus  reflected  on  itself,  and  its 
faculties  concentred  in  such  independent,  vigorous,  unwonted,  and  con- 
tinuous energy ; — by  none,  therefore,  are  its  best  capacities  so  variously 
and  intensely  evolved.  Whei-e  there  is  the  most  life,  there  is  the  victory.” 
— Discussions  on  Philosophy,  etc.  2d  ed.  p.  41. 


INTRODUCTION. 


29 


“ Plato  lias  profoundly  defined  man  ‘ the  hunter  of  truth ; ’ for  in  this 
chase,  as  in  others,  the  pursuit  is  all  in  all,  the  success  comparatively  noth- 
ing. We  exist  only  as  we  energize ; pleasure  is  the  reflex  of  unimpaired 
energy;  energy  is  the  mean  by  which  our  faculties  are  developed;  and  a 
higher  energy,  the  end  which  their  development  proposes.  In  action  is 
thus  contained  the  existence,  happiness,  improvement,  and  perfection  of 
our  being ; and  knowledge  is  only  precious,  as  it  may  afford  a stimulus  to 
the  exercise  of  our  powers,  and  the  condition  of  their  more  complete  ac- 
tivity. Speculative  truth  is,  therefore,  subordinate  to  specidation  itself;  and  its 
value  is  directly  measured  by  the  quantity  of  energy  which  it  occasions, — 
immediately  in  its  discovery,  mediately  through  its  consequences.  Life 
to  Endymion  was  not  preferable  to  death ; aloof  from  practice,  a waking 
error  is  better  than  a sleeping  ti'uth.  — Neither,  in  point  of  fact,  is  there 
found  any  proportion  between  the  possession  of  truths,  and  the  development 
of  the  mind  in  which  they  are  deposited.  Every  learner  in  science  is  now 
familiar  with  more  truths  than  Aristotle  or  Plato  ever  dreamt  of  know- 
ing ; yet,  compared  with  the  Stagirite  or  the  Athenian,  how  few,  even  of 
our  masters  of  modem  science,  rank  higher  than  intellectual  barbarians.” 
— lb.  p.  40. 

“ All  profitable  study  is  a silent  disputation  — an  intellectual  gymnas- 
tic ; and  the  most  improving  books  are  precisely  those  which  most  excite 
the  reader  — to  understand  the  author,  to  supply  what  he  has  omitted, 
and  to  canvass  his  facts  and  reasonings.  To  read  passively,  to  leam  — 
is,  in  reality,  not  to  leam  at  all.  In  study,  implicit  faith,  belief  upon  au- 
thority, is  worse  even  than,  for  a time,  erroneous  speculation.  To  read 
profitably,  we  should  read  the  authors,  not  most  in  unison  with,  but  most 
adverse  to,  our  opinions ; for  whatever  may  be  tbe  case  in  the  cure  of 
bodies,  enantiopathy,  and  not  homcEopathy,  is  the  true  medicine  of  minds. 
Accordingly,  such  sciences  and  such  authors,  as  present  only  unques- 
tionable truths,  [pure  mathematics,  for  instance,  when  made  a chief  object 
of  pursuit,]  determining  a minimum  of  self-activity  in  the  student,  are,  in 
a rational  education,  subjectively,  naught.  Those  [such]  sciences  and 
authors,  on  the  contrary,  as  constrain  the  student  to  independent  thought, 
[metaphysics,  for  example,]  are,  whatever  be  their  objective  certainty,  sub- 
jectively, educationally,  best.”] — lb.  p.  773. 


3* 


PHILOSOPHY 


OF 


TEE  HUMAN  MIND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

or  THE  POWERS  OF  EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 

I.  Of  the  theories  which  have  heen  formed  hy  Philosophers,  to  ex- 
plum the  manner  in  which  the  Mind  perceives  external  Objects. — 
Among  the  various  phenomena  which  the  human  mind  2iresents 
to  our  view,  there  is  none  more  calculated  to  excite  our  curiosity 
and  our  wonder,  than  the  communication  which  is  carried  on 
between  the  sentient,  thinking,  and  active  jirincijile  within  us, 
and  the  material  objects  with  which  we  are  surrounded.  How 
little  soever  the  bulk  of  mankind  may  be  disposed  to  attend  to 
such  inquiries,  there  is  scarcely  a person  to  be  found,  who  has 
not  occasionally  turned  his  thoughts  to  that  mysterious  influence, 
which  the  will  possesses  over  the  members  of  the  body  ; and  to 
those  powers  of  perception  which  seems  to  inform  us,  by  a sort 
of  inspiration,  of  the  various  changes  which  take  jflace  in  the 
external  universe.  Of  those  who  receive  the  advantages  of  a 
liberal  education,  there  are  perhaps  few,  who  pass  the  period  of 
childhood,  without  feeling  their  curiosity  excited  by  this  incom- 
prehensible communication  between  mind  and  matter.  For  my 
own  part,  at  least,  I cannot  recollect  the  date  of  my  earliest 
speculations  on  the  subject. 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


31 


Which  sense  is  alone  considered  in  most  theories  of  percep~ 
tion.  — In  considering  the  phenomena  of  perception,  it  is  natural 
to  suppose  that  the  attention  of  philosophers  ivould  be  directed, 
in  the  fii'st  instance,  to  the  sense  of  seeing.  The  variety  of  infor- 
mation and  of  enjoyment  we  receive  by  it ; the  rapidity  with 
which  this  information  and  enjoyment  are  conveyed  to  us  ; and 
above  all,  the  intercourse  it  enables  us  to  maintain  with  the 
more  distant  part  of  the  universe,  cannot  fail  to  give  it,  even  in 
the  apprehension  of  the  most  careless  observer,  a preeminence 
over  all  our  other  perceptive  faculties.  Hence  it  is,  that  the 
various  theories,  which  have  been  formed  to  explain  the  opera- 
tions of  our  senses,  have  a more  immediate  reference  to  that  of 
seeing;  and  that  the  greater  part  of  the  metaphysical  language, 
concerning  perception  in  general,  appears  evidently,  from  its 
etymology,  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  phenomena  of  vision. 
Even  when  applied  to  this  sense,  indeed,  it  can  at  most  amuse 
the  fancy,  without  conveying  any  precise  knowledge  ; but  when 
applied  to  the  other  senses,  it  is  altogether  absurd  and  unintel- 
ligible. 

Objections  to  all  the  hypotheses  that  have  been  framed  to  ex- 
plain the  process  of  perception.  — It  would  be  tedious  and 
useless,  to  consider  particularly  the  different  hj'potheses  which 
have  been  advanced' upon  this  subject.  To  all  of  them,  I appre- 
hend, the  two  following  remarks  will  be'found  applicable : First, 
that,  in  the  formation  of  them,  their  authors  have  been  influ- 
enced by  some  general  maxims  of  philosophizing,  borrowed 
from  physics  ; and  secondly,  that  they  have  been  influenced  by 
an  indistinct,  but  deep-rooted  conviction  of  the  immateriality  of 
the  soul ; which,  although  not  precise  enough  to  point  out  to 
them  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to  illustrate  its  operations  by 
the  analogy  of  matter,  was  yet  sufhciently  strong  to  induce 
them  to  keep  the  absurdity  of  their  theories  as  far  as  possible 
out  of  view,  by  allusions  to  those  physical  facts  in  w'hich  the 
distinctive  properties  of  matter  are  the  least  grossly  and  palpa- 
bly exposed  to  our  observation.  To  the  foi’mer  of  these  cir- 
cumstances is  to  be  ascribed  the  general  principle,  upon  which 
all  the  known  theories  of  perception  proceed ; that,  in  order  to 


32 


EXTEKNAL  PEKCEPTION. 


explain  tlie  intercourse  between  tlie  mind  and  distant  objects,  it 
is  necessary  to  suppose  the  existence  of  something  intermediate, 
by  which  its  perceptions  are  pi'oduced ; to  the  latter,  the  various 
metaphoi’ical  expressions  of  ideas,  species,  forms,  shadows,  phan- 
tasms, images  ; which,  while  they  amused  the  fancy  with  some 
remote  analogies  to  the  objects  of  our  senses,  did  not  directly 
revolt  our  reason,  by  presenting  to  us  any  of  the  tangible  quali- 
ties of  body. 

The  doctrine  of  mediate  perception,  or  of  perception  through 
the  intervention  of  images  or  ideas.  — It  was  the  doctrine  of 
Aristotle,  (says  Di’.  Reid,)  that  as  our  senses  cannot  receive 
external  material  objects  themselves,  they  receive  their  species  ; 
that  is,  their  images  or  forms,  without  the  matter ; as  wax  re- 
ceives the  form  of  the  seal,  without  any  of  the  matter  of  it. 
These  images  or  forms,  impressed  upon  the  senses,  are  called 
sensible  species  ; and  are  the  objects  only  of  the  sensitive  part 
of  the  mind  : but  by  various  internal  powers,  they  are  retained, 
refined,  and  spiritualized,  so  as  to  become  objects  of  memory 
and  imagination  ; and,  at  last,  of  j)ure  intellection.  When  they 
are  objects  of  memory  and  of  imagination,  they  get  the  name  of 
gjhantasms.  When,  by  further  refinement,  and  being  stripped 
of  their  peculiarities,  they  become  objects  of  science,  they  are 
called  intelligible  species  ; so  that  every  immediate  object,  wheth- 
er of  sense,  of  memory,  of  imagination,  or  of  reasoning,  must 
be  some  phantasm,  or  species,  in  the  mind  itself. 

The  Platonists,  too,  although  they  denied  the  great  doctrine 
of  the  Peripatetics,  that  all  the  objects  of  human  understanding 
enter  at  first  by  the  senses ; and  maintained,  that  there  exist 
eternal  and  immutable  ideas,  which  were  jirior  to  the  objects  of 
sense,  and  about  which  all  science  was  employed ; yet  appear 
to  have  agreed  with  them  in  their  notions  concerning  the  mode 
in  which  external  objects  are  perceived.  This  Dr.  Reid  infers, 
partly  from  the  silence  of  Aristotle  about  any  difference  between 
himself  and  his  master  upon  tliis  point;  and  partly  fi’om  a pas- 
sage in  the  seventh  book  of  Plato’s  Republic,  in  which  he  com- 
pares the  process  of  the  mind  in  perception  to  that  of  a person 
in  a cave,  who  sees  not  external  objects  themselves,  but  only 
their  shadows. 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION, 


33 


“Two  tlipusand  years  after  Plato,”  (continues  Dr,  Eeid,) 
“ Mr.  Locke,  who  studied  the  operations  of  the  human  mind  so 
much,  and  with  so  great  success,  represents  our  manner  of  per- 
ceiving external  objects  by  a similitude  very  much  resembling 
that  of  the  cave.  ‘ Methinks,’  says  he,  ‘ the  understanding  is 
not  much  unlike  a closet,  wholly  shut  from  light,  with  only  some 
little  opening  left,  to  let  in  external  visible  resemblances  or  ideas 
of  things  without.  Would  the  pictures  coming  into  such  a dark 
room  but  stay  there,  and  he  so  orderly  as  to  be  found  upon  oc- 
casion, it  would  very  much  resemble  the  understanding  of  a 
man,  in  reference  to  aU  objects  of  sight,  and  the  ideas  of 
them.’ 

“ Plato’s  subterranean  cave,  and  Mr.  Locke’s  dark  closet, 
may  be  applied  with  ease  to  all  the  systems  of  perceptions  that 
have  been  invented.:  for  they  all  suppose,  that  we  perceive  nbt 
external  objects  immediately  ; and  that  the  immediate  objects  of 
perception  are  only  certain  shadows  of  the  external  objects. 
Those  shadows,  or  images,  which  we  immediately  perceive,  were 
by  the  ancients  called  species,  forms,  phantasms.  Since  the  time 
of  Des  Cartes,  they  have  commonly  been  called  ideas  ; and  by 
Mr.  Hume,  impressions.  But  all  philosophers,  from  Plato  to 
Mr.  Hume,  agree  in  this,  that  we  do  not  perceive  external  ob- 
jects immediately ; and  that  the  immediate  object  of  perception 
must  be  some  image  present  to  the  mind.”  On  the  whole.  Dr. 
Eeid  remarks,  “ that  in  their  sentiments  concerning  perception, 
there  appears  an  uniformity  which  rarely  occurs  upon  subjects 
of  so  abstruse  a nature.” 

Objections  to  this  doctrine  of  mediate  perception.  — The  very 
short  and  imperfect  view  we  have  now  taken  of  the  common 
theories  of  perception,  is  almost  sufficient,  without  any  commen- 
tary, to  establish  the  truth  of  the  two  general  observations  for- 
merly made ; for  they  all  evidently  proceed  on  a supposition, 
suggested  by  the  phenomena  of  physics,  (1.)  that  there  must  of 
necessity  exist  some  medium  of  communication  between  the  ob- 
jects of  perception  and  the  percipient  mind  ; and  they  all  indi- 
cate a secret  conviction  in  their  authors,  (2.)  of  the  essential  dis- 
tinction between  mind  and  matter;  which,  although  not  ren- 


34 


EXTERNAL  EEKCEPTION. 


derecl,  by  reflection,  sutBciently  precise  al^cl  satisfactory  to  show 
them  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to  explain  the  mode  of  their 
communication ; liad  yet  such  a degree  of  influence  on  their 
speculations,  as  to  induce  them  to  exhibit  their  siqjposed  medium 
under  as  mysterious  and  ambiguous  a form  as  possible,  in  oi’der 
that  it  might  remain  doubtful  to  which  of  the  two  predicaments, 
of  body  or  mind,  they  meant  that  it  should  be  referred.  By 
refining  axoay  the  grosser  qualities  of  matter,  and  by  allusions 
to  some  of  the  most  aerial  and  magical  appearances  it  assumes, 
they  endeavored,  as  it  were,  to  spiritualize  the  nature  of  their 
medium  ; while  at  the  same  time,  all  their  language  concerning 
it  imj)lied  such  a reference  to  matter,  as  was  necessary  for  fur- 
nishing a plausible  foundation  for  applying  to  it  the  received 
maxims  of  natural  philosophy. 

• Another  observation,  too,  which  was  formerly  hinted  at,  is 
confirmed  by  the  same  historical  review ; that,  in  the  order  of 
inquiry,  the  phenomena  of  vision  had  first  engaged  the  attention 
of  philosophers,  and  had  suggested  to  them  the  greater  part  of 
then.’  language  with  respect  to  perception  in  general ; and  that, 
in  consequence  of  this  circumstance,  the  common  modes  of  ex- 
pression on  the  subject,  unphilosophical  and  fanciful  at  best, 
even  when  applied  to  the  sense  of  seeing,  are,  in  the  case  of  all 
the  other  senses,  obviously  unintelligible  and  self-contradictory. 
As  to  objects  of  sight,  says  Dr.  Reid,  I understand  what  is 
meant  by  an  image  of  their  figure  in  the  brain  ; but  how  shall 
we  conceive  an  image  of  their  color,  where  there  is  absolute 
darkness  ? And,  as  to  all  other  objects  of  sense,  except  figure 
and  color,  I am  unable  to  conceive  what  is  meant  by  an  image 
of  them.  Let  any  man  say,  what  he  means  by  an  image  of 
heat  and  cold,  an  image  of  hardness  or  softness,  an  image  of 
sound,  or  smell,  or  taste.  The  word  image,  when  applied  to  these 
objects  of  sense,  has  absolutely  no  meaning.  This  palpable  im- 
perfection in  the  ideal  theory  has  plainly  taken  rise  from  the 
natural  order  in  which  the  phenomena  of  perception  present 
themselves  to  the  curiosity. 

That  in  the  case  of  the  perception  of  distant  objects,  we  are 
naturally  inclined  to  suspect,  either  something  to  be  emitted  from 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


S5 


the  object  to  the  organ  of  sense,  or  some  medium  to  intervene  Je- 
tween  the  object  and  organ,  by  means  of  which  the  foi’mer  may 
communicate  an  impulse  to  the  latter,  appears  from  the  com- 
mon modes  of  expression  on  the  subject,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  all  languages.  In  our  own,  for  example,  we  frequently  hear 
the  vulgar  speak  of  light  striking  the  eye ; not  in  consequence 
of  any  philosophical  theory  they  have  been  taught,  but  of  their 
own  crude  and  undirected  speculations.  Perhaps  there  are 
few  men  among  those  who  have  attended  at  all  to  the  history 
of  their  own  thoughts,  who  will  not  recollect  the  influence  of 
these  ideas,  at  a period  of  life  long  prior  to  the  date  of  their 
philosophical  studies.  Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  conceived  more 
simple  and  natural  than  their  origin.  When  an  object  is 
placed  in  a certain  situation  ivith  respect  to  a particular’  organ 
of  the  body,  a perception  arises  in  the  mind ; when  the  object 
is  removed,  the  perception  ceases.  Hence  we  are  led  to  appre- 
hend some  connection  between  the  object  and  the  ‘perception  ; and 
as  we  are  accustomed  to  believe,  that  matter  produces  its  effects 
by  impulse,  we  conclude  that  there  must  be  some  material  me- 
dium intervening  between  the  object  and  organ,  by  means  of 
which  the  impulse  is  communicated  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
— That  this  is  really  the  case,  I do  not  mean  to  dispute.  — I 
think,  however,  it  is  evident,  that  the  existence  of  such  a me- 
dium does  not  in  any  case  appear  a priori:  and  yet  the  natural 
prejudices  of  men  have  given  rise  to  an  universal  belief  of  it, 
long  before  they  were  able  to  produce  any  good  argmnents  in 
support  of  their  opinion. 

Nor  is  it  only  to  account  for  the  connection  between  the  ob- 
ject and  the  organ  of  sense,  that  philosophers  have  had  recourse 
to  the  theory  of'impulse.  They  have  imagined  that  the  impres- 
sion on  the  organ  of  sense  is  communicated  to  the  mind,  in  a sim- 
ilar manner.  As  one  body  produces  a change  in  the  state  of 
another  by  impulse,  so  it  has  been  supposed,  that  the  external 
object  produces  perception,  (which  is  a change  in  the  state  of 
♦he  mind,)  first,  by  some  material  impression  made  on  the  organ 
of  sense ; and,  secondly,  by  some  material  impression  commu- 
nicated from  the  organ  to  the  mind  along  the  nerves  and  brain. 


36 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


Tliosc.  suppositions,  indeed,  as  I had  occasion  already  to  hint, 
were,  in  tlie  ancient  theories  of  perception,  rather  implied  than 
expressed ; but  by  modern  philosophers,  they  have  been  stated 
in  the  form  of  exj)licit  propositions.  “ As  to  the  manner,”  says 
Mr.  Locke,  “ in  which  bodies  produce  ideas  in  us,  it  is  mani- 
festly by  impulse,  the  only  way  which  we  can  conceive  bodies 
operate  in.”  Dr.  Clark  has  expressed  tlie  same  idea  still  more 
confidently,  in  the  following  passage  of  one  of  his  letters  to 
Leibnitz.  “ Without  being  present  to  the  images  of  the  things 
perceived,  the  soul  could  not  possibly  perceive  them.  A living 
substance  can  only  there  perceive,  where  it  is  present.  Noth- 
ing can  any  more  act,  or  be  acted  upon,  xoliere  it  is  not  present, 
than  it  can  it  is  not.”  “How  body  acts  upon  mind,  or 
mind  upon  body,”  (says  Dr.  Porterfield)  “ I know  not ; but  this 
I am  very  certain  of,  that  notlung  can  act,  or  be  acted  upon, 
where  it  is  not ; and  therefore  our  mind  can  never  perceive  any 
thing  but  its  own  proper  modifications,  and  the  various  states  of 
the  sensorium,  to  which  it  is  present:  so  that  it  is  not  the  ex- 
ternal sun  and  moon,  which  are  in  the  heavens,  which  our  mind 
perceives,  but  only  their  image  or  representation,  impressed 
upon  the  sensorium.  Hoav  the  soul  of  a seeing  man  sees  these 
images,  or  how  it  receives  those  ideas,  from  such  agitations  in 
the  sensorium,  I know  not ; but  I am  sure  it  can  never  perceive 
the  external  bodies  themselves,  to  which  it  is  not  present.” 
Theories  of  perception  hy  Monhoddo  and  Malehranche.  — The 
same  train  of  thinking,  wliich  had  led  these  philosophers  to  sup- 
pose that  external  objects  are  pereeived  by  means  of  species 
proceeding  from  the  object  to  the  mind,  or  by  means  of  some 
material  impression  made  on  the  mind  by  the  brain,  has  sug- 
gested to  a late  writer  a very  different  theory  ; that  the  mind, 
when  it  perceives  an  external  object,  quits  the  body,  and  is 
present  to  the  object  of  perception.  “ The  mind,”  (says  the 
learned  author  of  Ancient  Metaphysics,)  “ is  not  where  the 
body  is,  when  it  perceives  what  is  distant  from  the  body,  either 
in  time  or  place,  because  nothing  can  act,  but  when,  and  where, 
it  is.  Now,  the  mind  acts  when  it  perceives.  The  mind, 
therefore,  of  every  animal  who  has  memory  or  imagination,  acts. 


EXTERNAL  FEECEPTION. 


37 


and  by  consequence  exists,  when  and  where  the  body  is  not ; 
for  it  perceives  objects  distant  from  the  body  both  in  time  and 
place.”  Indeed,  if  we  take  for  granted,  that  in  perception  the 
mind  acts  upon  the  object,  or  the  object  upon  the  mind,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  admit  the  truth  of  the  maxim,  that  “ nothing  can 
act  but  where  it  is,”  we  must,  of  necessity  conclude,  either  that 
objects  are  perceived  in  a way  similar  to  what  is  supposed  in 
the  ideal  theory,  or  that,  in  every  act  of  perception,  the  soul 
quits  the  body,  and  is  present  to  the  object  perceived.  And 
accordingly,  this  alternative  is  expressly  stated  by  Malebranche ; 
who  differs,  however,  from  the  writer  last  quoted,  in  the  choice 
which  he  makes  of  his  hypothesis  ; and  even  rests  his  proof  of 
its  truth  on  the  improbability  of  the  otker  opinion.  “ I sup- 
pose,” says  he,  “ that  every  one  will  grant,  that  we  perceive  not 
external  objects  immediately,  and  of  themselves.  We  see  the 
sun,  the  stars,  and  an  infinity  of  objects  without  us ; and  it  is 
not  at  aU  likely  that,  upon  such  occasions,  the  soul  sallies  out  of 
the  body  in  order  to  be  present  to  the  objects  perceived.  She 
sees  them  not  therefore  by  themselves ; and  the  immediate  ob- 
ject of  the  mind  is  not  the  thing  perceived,  but  something  which 
is  intimately  united  to  the  soul ; and  it  is  that  which  I call  an 
idea : so  that  by  the  word  idea,  I understand  nothing  else  here 
but  that  which  is  nearest  to  the  mind  when  we  'perceive  any  ob- 
ject. It  ought  to  be  carefully  observed,  that,  in  order  to  the 
mind’s  pei'ceiving  any  object,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  the 
ideas  of  that  object  be  actually  present  to  it.  Of  this  it  is  not 
possible  to  doubt.  The  things  which  the  soul  perceives,  are  of 
two  kinds.  They  are  either  in  the  soul,  or  they  are  without 
the  soul.  Those  that  are  in  the  soul,  are  its  own  thoughts ; 
that  is  to  say,  all  its  different  modifications.  The  soul  has  no 
need  of  ideas  for  perceiving  these  things.  But  with  regard  to 
things  without  the  soul,  we  cannot  perceive  them  but  by  means 
of  ideas.” 

All  these  theories  appear  to  me  to  have  taken  their  rise,  first, 
from  an  inattention  to  the  proper  object  of  philosophy,  and,  sec- 
ondly, from  an  apprehension,  that  we  understand  the  connection 
between  impulse  and  motion  better  than  any  other  physical 

4 


38 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


fact.  From  the  detail  which  T have  given,  it  appears  how  ex- 
tensive an  influence  this  prejudice  has  had  on  the  inquiries  both 
of  natural  philosophers  and  of  metapliysieians. 

II.  Of  Dr.  Reid’s  Specvlatiovs  ov  the  suhjeet  of  Perception.  — It 
was  chiefly  in  consequence  of  the  skeptical  conclusions  which 
Bishop  Berkeley  and  Mr.  Hume  had  deduced  from  the  ancient 
theories  of  perception,  that  Dr.  Reid  was  led  to  call  them  in 
question  ; and  he  appears  to  me  to  have  sliown,  in  the  most  sat- 
isfactory manner,  not  only  that  they  are  perfectly  hypothetical, 
but  that  the  suppositions  they  involve  are  absurd  and  impossi- 
ble. His  reasonings,  on  this  part  of  our  constitution,  undoubt- 
edly form  the  most  important  accession  which  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind  has  received  since  the  time  of  Mr.  Locke. 

But  although  Dr.  Reid  has  been  at  much  pains  to  overturn 
the  old  ideal  system,  he  has  not  ventured  to  substitute  any  hy- 
pothesis of  his  own  in  its  place.  And,  indeed,  he  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  limits  prescribed  to  our  philosophical  inqui- 
ries, to  think  of  indulging  his  curiosity  in  such  unprofitable 
speculations.  All,  therefore,  that  he  is  to  be  understood  as  aim- 
ing at,  in  his  inquiries,  concerning  our  perceptive  powers,  is  to 
give  a precise  statement  of  the  fact,  divested  of  all  theoretical  ex- 
pressions ; in  order  to  prevent  philosophers  from  imposing  on 
themselves  any  longer,  by  words  without  meaning ; and  to  extort 
from  them  an  acknowledgment,  that,  with  respect  to  the  process 
of  nature  in  perception,  they  are  no  less  ignorant  than  the 
vialgar. 

Useful  effect  of  plain  truth  in  reminding  us  of  our  ignorance, 
and  reviving  our  natural  feelings.  — According  to  this  view  of 
Dr.  Reid’s  reasonings  on  the  subject  of  perception,  the  purpose 
to  which  they  are  subservient  may  appear  to  some  to  be  of  no 
very  considerable  importance ; but  the  truth  is,  that  one  of  the 
most  valuable  effects  of  genuine  philosophy,  is  to  remind  us  of 
the  limited  powers  of  the  human  understanding  ; and  to  revive 
those  natural  feelings  of  wonder  and  admiration,  at  the  spectacle 
of  the  universe,  which  are  apt  to  languish,  in  consequence  of 
long  familiarity.  The  most  profound  discoveries  which  are 
placed  within  the  reach  of  our  researches,  lead  to  a confessipa 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


39 


of  human  ignorance ; for,  while  they  flatter  the  pride  of  man, 
and  increase  his  power,  by  enabling  him  to  trace  the  simple  and 
beautiful  laws  by  which  physical  events  are  regulated,  they  call 
his  attention,  at  the  same  time,  to  those  general  and  ultimate 
facts  which  bound  the  narrow  circle  of  his  knowledge ; and 
M'hich,  by  evincing  to  him  the  operation  of  powers,  whose  nature 
must  for  ever  remain  unknown,  serve  to  remind  him  of  the  in- 
sufiiciency  of  his  faculty  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  the  universe. 
Wherever  we  direct  our  inquiries ; whether  to  the  anatomy  and 
physiology  of  animals,  to  the  growth  of  vegetables,  to  the  chem- 
ical attractions  and  repulsions,  or  to  the  motions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies ; we  perpetually  perceive  the  effects  of  powers  which 
cannot  belong  to  matter.  To  a certain  length  we  are  able  to 
proceed ; but  in  every  research,  we  meet  with  a line  which  no  in- 
dustry nor  ingenuity  can  pass.  It  is  a line,  too,  which  is  marked 
with  sufficient  distinctness ; and  which  no  man  now  thinks  of 
passing,  who  has  just  views  of  the  nature  and  object  of  philoso- 
phy. It  forms  the  separation  between  that  field  which  falls  un- 
der the  survey  of  the  physical  inquirer,  and  that  unknown  region 
of  which,  though  it  was  necessary  that  we  should  be  assured  of 
its  existence,  in  order  to  lay  a foundation  for  the  doctrines  of 
natural  theology,  it  hath  not  pleased  the  Author  of  the  universe 
to  reveal  to  us  the  wonders,  in  this  infant  state  of  our  being. 
It  was,  in  fact,  chiefly  by  tracing  out  this  line,  that  Lord  Bacon 
did  so  iftuch  service  to  science. 

Beside  this  effect,  which  is  common  to  all  our  philosophical 
pursuits,  of  imjiressing  the  mind  with  a sense  of  that  mysterious 
agency,  or  efficiency,  hito  which  general  laws  must  be  resolved ; 
they  have  a tendency,  in  many  cases,  to  counteract  the  influence 
of  habit,  in  weakening  those  emotions  of  wonder  and  of  curiosity, 
which  the  appearances  of  nature  are  so  admirably  fitted  to  ex- 
cite. F or  this  purpose,  it  is  necessary,  either  to  lead  the  atten- 
tion to  facts  which  are  calculated  to  strike  by  their  novelty,  or 
to  present  familiar  appearances  in  a new  light : and  such  are 
the  obvious  effects  of  philosophical  inquiries ; sometimes  extend- 
ing our  views  to  objects  which  are  removed  from  vulgar  obser- 
vation ; and  sometimes  correcting  our  first  apprehensions  with 


40 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


respect  to  ordinary  events.  The  communication  of  motion  by 
impulse,  (as  I already  hinted,)  is  as  unaccountable  as  any  phe- 
nomenon we  know ; and  yet,  most  men  are  disposed  to  consider 
it  as  a fact  which  does  not  result  from  will,  hut  from  necessity. 
To  such  men,  it  may  be  useful  to  direct  their  attention  to  the 
universal  law  of  gravitation ; which,  although  not  more  wonder- 
ful in  itself  than  'the  common  effect  of  impulse,  is  more  fitted, 
by  its  novelty,  to  awaken  their  attention,  and  to  excite  their 
curiosity. 

Contrary  effect  of  erroneous  theories.  — If  such,  however,  be 
the  effects  of  our  philosophical  pursuits  when  successfully  con- 
ducted, it  must  be  confessed  that  the  tendency  of  imperfect  or 
erroneous  theories  is  widely  diflferent.  By  a specious  solution 
of  insuperable  difiiculties,  they  so  dazzle  and  bewilder  the  un- 
derstanding, as,  at  once,  to  prevent  us  from  advancing,  with 
steadiness,  towards  the  limit  of  human  knowledge ; and  from 
perceiving  the  existence  of  a region  beyond  it,  into  which  phi- 
losophy is  not  permitted  to  enter.  In  such  cases,  it  is  the  busi- 
ness of  genuine  science  to  unmask  the  imposture,  and  to  point 
out  clearly,  both  to  the  learned  and  to  the  vulgar,  what  reason 
can,  and  what  she  cannot,  accomplish.  This,  I apprehend,  has 
been  done  with  respect  to  the  history  of  our  perceptions,  in  the 
most  satisfactory  manner,  by  Dr.  Reid.’  When  a person  little 
accustomed  to  metaphysical  speculation  is  told,  that,  in  the  case 
of  volition,  there  are  certain  invisible  fluids,  propagated  from  the 
mind  to  the  organ  which  is  moved,  and  that,  in  the  case  of  per- 
ception, the  existence  and  qualities  of  the  external  object  are 
made  known  to  us  by  means  of  species,  or  phantasms,  or  images, 
which  are  present  to  the  mind  in  the  sensorium  ; he  is  apt  to 
conclude  that  the  intercourse  between  mind  and  matter  is  much 
less  mysterious  than  he  had  supposed  ; and  that,  although  these 
expressions  may  not  convey  to  him  any  very  distinct  meaning, 
their  import  is  perfectly  understood  by  philosophers.  It  is 
now,  I think,  pretty  generally  acknowledged  by  physiologists, 
that  the  influence  of  the  will  over  the  body,  is  a mystery  which 
has  never  yet  been  unfolded ; but  singular  as  it  may  appear, 
Dr.  Reid  was  the  first  person  who  had  courage  to  lay  completely 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


41 


aside  all  the  common  hypothetical  language  concerning  percep- 
tion, and  to  exhibit  the  difficulty  in  all  its  magnitude,  by  a plain 
statement  of  the  fact. 

Statement  of  Dr.  Reid’s  doctrine.  — To  what  then,  it  may  he 
asked,  does  this  statement  amount  ? Merely  to  this ; that  the 
mind  is  so  formed,  that  certain  impressions  produced  on  our  or- 
gans of  sense  by  external  objects,  are  followed  by  correspondent 
sensations;  and  that  these  sensations,  (which  have  no  more  re- 
semUance  to  the  qualities  of  matter,  than  the  words  of  a language 
have  to  the  things  they  denote,)  are  followed  hy  a perception  of 
the  existence  and  qualities  of  the  bodies  by  which  the  impres- 
sions are  made : that  all  the  steps  of  this  process  are  equally 
incomprehensible  ; and  that,  for  any  thing  we  can  prove  to  the 
contrary,  the  connection  between  the  sensation  and  the  percep- 
tion, as  well  as  that  between  the  impression  and  the  sensation, 
may  be  both  arbitrary ; that  it  is  therefore  by  no  means  impos- 
sible, that  our  sensations  may  be  merely  the  occasions  on  which 
the  correspondent  perceptions  are  excited ; and  that,  at  any 
rate,  the  consideration  of  these  sensations,  which  are  attributes 
of  mind,  can  throw  no  light  on  the  manner  in  which  we  acquire 
our  knowledge  of  the  existence  and  qualities  of  body.*  From 


* [The  distinction  between  sensation  and  perception  is  the  most  original 
and  important  feature  of  Dr.  Reid’s  philosophy.  The  following  explana- 
tion of  if  is  nearly  in  his  own  words,  though  it  is  formed  hy  bringing 
together  many  sentences  from  different  portions  of  his  Inquiry  and  his 
Essays. 

The  same  mode  of  expression  is  used  to  denote  sensation  and  perception  ; 
the  things  coalesce  in  our  imagination,  and  are  considered  as  one  simple 
operation,  for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life  do  not  require  them  to  he  dis- 
tinguished. But  the  philosopher  needs  to  distinguish  them,  and  is  able  to 
analyze  the  operation  compounded  of  them.  Thus,  — I fed  a pain  ; I see 
a tree.  The  first  of  these  propositions  denotes  a sensation,  the  last  a per- 
ception. 

Sensation  has  no  object  distinct  from  itself.  When  I am  pained,  I cannot 
say  that  the  pain  I feel  is  one  thing,  and  my  feeling  it  is  another  thing.  They 
are  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  cannot  be  disjoined  even  in  imagination. 
The  sensation,  moreover,  can  have  no  existence  but  in  a sentient  mind ; 
pain,  when  it  is  not  felt,  has  no  existence. 

Percqjtion,  on  the  other  hand,  always  has  an  object  distinct  from  itsdf. 

4* 


42 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


tliis  view  of  the  subject,  it  follows,  that  it  is  the  external  objects 
themselves,  and  not  any  species  or  images  of  these  objects,  that 


Thus,  I perceive  a tree;  there  is  here  an  object  which  is  perceived,  and  an 
act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  is  perceived ; and  the  two  are  not  only  distin- 
guishable, but  EK-e  extremely  unlike  in  their  natures.  And  the  tree  exists, 
whether  it  is  perceived  or  not.  The  tree,  also,  which  is  the  object  per- 
ceived, is  made  up  of  a trunk,  branches,  and  leaves  ; the  act  of  the  mind 
by  which  it  is  perceived  has  neither  trunk,  branches,  nor  leaves. 

Every  perception  is  accompanied  by  a sensation,  without  which  it  could 
not  exist.  But  every  sensation  has  not  a perception  as  its  necessary  con- 
comitant ; it  may  exist  alone.  When  I smell  a rose,  there  is  in  this  opera- 
tion both  sensation  and  perception.  The  agreeable  odor  I feel,  consid- 
ered by  itself,  without  relation  to  any  external  object,  is  merely  a sensation. 
This  sensation  may  be  felt,  when  no  rose  is  perceived  ; as  when  I enter  a 
room  strongly  impregnated  with  otto  of  rose,  though  the  flower  — the  rose 
itself — is  not  there.  This  sensation  can  be  nothing  else  than  it  is  felt  to 
be ; its  very  essence  consists  in  being  felt,  and  when  it  is  not  felt,  it  is 
not. 

Now  let  us  attend  to  the  perception  which  we  have  in  smelling  a rose. 
Perception  always  has  an  external  object ; and  the  object  of  my  percep- 
tion, in  this  ease,  is  that  quality  in  the  rose  which  I discern  by  or  through 
the  sense  of  smell.  This  quality  in  the  rose,  which  produces  an  effect  on 
my  olfactory  nerves,  is  the  object  of  perception ; and  the  act  by  which  I 
recognize  it,  and  believe  it  to  exist,  is  perception. 

Sir  W.  Hamilton  even  lays  it  down  as  a general  rule,  that,  above  a cer- 
tain point,  the  stronger  the  Sensation,  the  wealcer  the  Perception ; and  the  dis- 
tincter  the  Perception,  the  less  obtrusive  the  Sensation.  In  o iher  words.  Per- 
ception and  Sensation  are  always  found  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  each  other.  Thus, 
if  I strike  my  hand  lightly  against  the  corner  of  the  table,  the  sensation 
which  is  produced  is  slight,  and  I have  a very  distinct  perception  of  the 
hardness  and  angularity  of  the  table  which  produce  the  sensation.  But  if 
I strike  my  hand  violently  against  it,  the  sensation  produced  is  acute  and 
painful,  and,  my  attention  being  absorbed  by  it,  I hardly  perceive  the  shape 
of  the  object  which  has  done  me  the  injury.  So,  again,  if  I look  at  the 
unclouded  sun  at  mid-day,  the  sensation  produced  is  so  vivid  and  overpow- 
ering, that  I have  hardly  any  perception  either  of  its  form  or  color.  But 
if  I look  at  the  same  object  towards  evening,  when  it  is  partially  obscured 
by  clouds,  the  sensation  is  ligiit  and  agreeable,  and  I have  a very  distinct 
perception  of  the  sun’s  circular  form  and  red  or  golden  color. 

But  observe,  the  sensation  which  is  felt,  and  the  quality  which  is  per- 
ceived, are  both  called  by  the  same  name.  In  the  instance  first  given,  the 
smell  of  a rose  is  the  name  given  to  both.  Hence  has  arisen  the  curious 
question,  whether  the  smell  be  in  the  rose,  or  in  the  mind  that  feels 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


43 


the  mind,  perceives : and  that,  although  by  the  constitution  of  our 
nature,  certain  sensations  are  rendered  the  constant  antecedents 
of  our  perceptions,  yet  it  is  just  as  difficult  to  explain  how  our 
perceptions  are  obtained  by  their  means,  as  it  would  be  upon 
the  supposition  that  the  mind  were  aU  at  once  inspired  with 
them,  without  any  concomitant  sensations  whatever.* * 

These  remarks  are  general,  and  apply  to  all  our  various  per- 
ceptions ; and  they  evidently  strike  at  the  root  of  all  the  com- 
mon theories  upon  the  subject.  The  laws,  however,  which  reg- 


it.  The  answer  is,  that  there  are'  two  different  things  signified  by  the 
smell  of  a rose;  one,  the  sensation,  is  in  the  mind,  and  cannot  exist  out  of 
the  mind  ; the  other,  the  quality  perceived,  is  in  the  rose.  These  two 
things  are  called  by  the  same  name,  not  on  account  of  their  similitude,  for 
they  do  not  at  aU  resemble  each  other,  but  on  account  of  their  constant 
concomitancy.  They  always  go  together.  All  the  names  we  have  for 
smells,  tastes,  sounds,  and  for  the  various  degrees  of  heat  and  cold,  have  a 
like  ambiguity  ; they  signify  both  a sensation,  and  a quality  perceived  by 
means  of  that  sensation.  The  first  is  the  sign,  the  last  the  thing  signified. 

We  say  that  we  feel  the  toothache,  not  that  we  perceive  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  say  that  we  ■perceive  the  color  of  a body,  not  that  we  feel  it.  Is 
there  any  reason  for  this  difference  of  phraseology  ? I apprehend  that,  in 
both  cases,  sensation  and  perception  are  conjoined.  But  in  the  toothache, 
tlie  sensation,  being  very  painful,  engrosses  the  attention ; so  that  we  speak 
of  it  as  if  it  were  felt  only,  and  not  perceived.  But  in  seeing  a colored 
body,  the  sensation  is  indifferent,  and  draws  no  attention.  The  quality  in 
the  body,  which  we  call  its  color,  is  the  only  object  of  attention ; and 
therefore  we  speak  of  it  as  if  it  were  perceived,  and  not  felt.] 

* This  language  has  been  objected  to,  as  bordering  on  mysticism, 
whereas,  in  truth,  it  is  merely  a statement  of  a fact,  accompanied  with  an 
acknowledgment  of  our  total  ignorance  of  the  manner  in  which  it  is  to  be 
explained.  Is  it  any  thing  more  than  an  extension  to  the  phenomena  of 
perception  of  what  Mr.  Hume  has  so  justly  and  so  profoundly  remarked 
concerning  the  phenomena  of  voluntary  motion  1 “Is  there  any  principle 
in  all  nature  more  mysterious  than  the  union  of  soul  and  body,  by  which  a sup- 
posed spiritual  substance  acquires  such  an  influence  over  a material  one,  that  the 
most  refined  thought  is  able  to  actuate  the  grossest  matter  ? TF^e  we  empowered, 
by  a secret  wish,  to  remove  mountains,  or  control  the  planets  in  their  orbits,  this 
extensive  authority  would  not  be  more  extraordinary,  nor  more  beyond  our  compre- 
hension.” I do  not  know  that  Mr.  Hume  was  ever  charged  with  any  ten- 
dency to  mysticism ; and  yet  the  two  cases  seem  to  me  to  be  perfectly  anal- 
ogous. 


44 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


ulate  these  perceptions,  are  different  in  the  case  of  the  different 
senses,  and  form  a very  curious  object  of  philosophical  inquiry. 
Those,  in  particular,  which  regulate  the  acquired  perceptions  of 
sight,  lead  *to  some  very  interesting  and  important  speculations ; 
and,  I think,  have  never  yet  been  explained  in  a manner  com- 
pletely satisfactory. 

III.  Of  the  Origin  of  our  Knowledge.  — The  philosophers  who 
endeavored  to  explain  the  operations  of  the  human  mind  by  the 
theory  of  ideas,  and  who  took  for  granted,  that,  in  every  exer- 
tion of  thought,  there  exists  in  the  mind  some  object  distinct 
from  the  thinking  substance,  were  naturally  led  to  inquire 
whence  these  ideas  derive  their  origin ; in  particular,  whether 
they  are  conveyed  to  the  mind  from  without  by  means  of  the 
senses,  or  form  part  of  its  original  fui’niture  ? 

With  respect  to  this  question,  the  opinions  of  the  ancients 
were  various ; but  as  the  influence  of  these  opinions  on  the  pre- 
vailing systems  of  the  jiresent  age  is  not  very  considerable,  it 
is  not  necessary,  for  any  of  the  purposes  I have  in  view  in  this 
work,  to  consider  them  particularly.  The  moderns,  too,  have 
been  much  divided  on  the  subject;  some  holding  with  Des 
Cartes,  that  the  mind  is  furnished  with  certain  innate  ideas; 
others,  with  Mr.  Locke,  that  all  our  ideas  may  be  traced  from 
sensation  and  reflection  ; and  many,  (especially  among  the  later 
metaphysicians  in  France,)  that  they  may  be  all  traced  from 
sensation  alone. 

Of  these  theoi’ies,  that  of  Mr.  Locke  deserves  more  particu- 
larly our  attention ; as  it  has  served  as  a basis  of  most  of  the 
metaphysical  systems  which  have  appeared  since  his  time ; and 
as  the  difference  between  it  and  the  theory  which  derives  all 
our  ideas  from  sensation  alone,  is  rather  apparent  than  real. 

The  theory  of  Locke.  — In  order  to  convey  a just  notion  of 
Mr.  Locke’s  doctrine  concerning  the  origin  of  our  ideas,  it  is 
necessary  to  remark,  that  he  refers  to  sensation  all  the  ideas 
which  we  are  supposed  to  receive  by  the  external  senses ; our 
ideas,  for  example,  of  colors,  of  sounds,  of  hardness,  of  extension, 
of  motion  ; and,  in  short,  of  all  the  qualities  and  modes  of  mat- 
ter : to  reflection,  the  ideas  of  our  own  mental  operations  which 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


45 


we  derive  from  consciousness ; our  ideas,  for  example,  of  mem- 
oiy,  of  imagination,  of  volition,  of  pleasure,  and  of  pain.  These 
two  sources,  according  to  him,  furnish  us  with  all  our  simple 
ideas,  and  the  only  power  which  the  mind  possesses  over  them, 
is  to  perform  certain  operations,  in  the  way  of  composition,  ab- 
straction, generalization,  etc.,  on  the  materials  which  it  thus 
collects  in  the  course  of  its  experience.  The  laudable  desire  of 
Mr.  Locke  to  introduce  precision  and  perspicuity  into  meta- 
physical speculations,  and  his  anxiety  to  guard  the  mind  against 
error  in  general,  naturally  prepossessed  him  in  favor  of  a doc- 
trine, which,  when  compared  with  those  of  his  predecessors,  was 
intelligible  and  simple ; and  which,  by  suggesting  a method,  ap- 
parently easy  and  palpable,  of  analyzing  our  knowledge  into  its 
elementary  principles,  seemed  to  furnish  an  antidote  against 
those  prejudices  which  had  been  favored  by  the  hypothesis  of 
innate  ideas. 

Refutation  of  it  hy  Dr.  Reid.  — If  Dr.  Reid’s  reasonings  on 
the  subject  of  ideas  be  admitted,  all  these  speculations  with 
respect  to  their  origin  fall  to  the  ground ; and  the  question  to 
which  they  relate  is  reduced  merely  to  a question  of  fact ; con- 
cerning the  occasions  on  which  the  mind  is  first  led  to  form  those 
simple  notions  into  which  our  thoughts  may  be  analyzed,  and 
which  may  be  considered  as  the  principles  or  elements  of  hu- 
man knowledge.  With  respect  to  many  of  these  notions,  this 
inquiry  involves  no  difficulty.  No  one,  for  example,  can  be  at 
a loss  to  ascertain  the  occasions  on  which  the  notions  of  colors 
and  sounds  are  first  formed  by  the  mind : for  these  notions  are 
confined  to  individuals  who  are  possessed  of  ■particular  senses, 
and  cannot,  by  any  combination  of  words,  be  conveyed  to  those 
who  never  enjoyed  the  use  of  them.  The  history  of  our 
notions  of  extension  and  figure,  (which  may  be  suggested  to  the 
mind  by  the  exercise  either  of  sight  or  of  touch,)  is  not  alto- 
gether so  obvious ; and  accordingly  it  has  been  the  subject  of 
various  controversies.  To  trace  the  origin  of  these,  and  of  our 
other  simple  notions  with  respect  to  the  qualities  of  matter  ; or, 
in  other  words,  to  describe  the  occasions  on  which,  by  the  laws 
of  our  nature,  they  are  suggested  to  the  mind,  is  one  of  the  lead- 


46 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


ing  objects  of  Di*.  Reid’s  inquiry,  in  his  analysis  of  our  external 
senses ; in  which  he  carefully  avoids  every  hypothesis  with 
respect  to  the  inexplicable  phenomena  of  perception  and  of 
thought,  and  confines  himself  scrupulously  to  a literal  state- 
ment of  facts.  Similar  inquiries  to  these  may  be  proposed, 
concerning  the  occasions  on  which  we  form  the  notions  of  time, 
of  motion,  of  number,  of  causation,  and  an  infinite  variety  of 
others.  Thus,  it  has  been  observed  by  different  authors,  that 
every  perception  of  change  suggests  to  the  mind  the  notion  of  a 
cause,  without  which  that  change  could  not  have  happened. 
Dr.  Reid  remarks,  that,  without  the  faculty  of  memory,  our 
perceptive  powers  could  never  have  led  us  to  form  the  idea  of 
motion.  I shall  afterwards  show,  in  the  sequel  of  this  work, 
that  without  the  same  faculty  of  memory,  we  never  could  have 
formed  the  notion  of  time  ; and  that  without  the  faculty  of 
abstraction,  wfe  could  not  have  formed  the  notion  of  number. 
Such  inquiries  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our  knowledge,  are 
curious  and  important ; and  if  conducted  with  judgment,  they 
may  lead  to  the  most  certain  conclusions ; as  they  aim  at 
nothing  more  than  to  ascertain  facts,  which,  although  not 
obvious  to  superficial  observers,  may  yet  be  discovered  by 
patient  investigation. 

Whether  all  knowledge  is  derived  ultimately  from  our  sensa- 
tions. — With  respect  to  the  general  question.  Whether  all  our 
knowledge  may  be  ultimately  traced  from  our  sensations  ? 
I shall  only  observe  at  present,  that  the  opinion  we  form  con- 
cerning it  is  of  much  less  consequence  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed. That  the  mind  cannot,  without  the  grossest  absurdity, 
be  considered  in  the  light  of  a receptacle,  which  is  gradually 
furnished  from  without  by  materials  introduced  by  the  channel 
of  the  senses  ; nor  in  that  of  a tabula  rasa,  upon  which  copies  or 
resemblances  of  things  external  are  imprinted ; I have  already 
shown  at  sufiicient  length.  Although,  therefore,  we  should 
acquiesce  in  the  conclusion,  that,  without  our  organs  of  sense, 
the  mind  must  have  remained  destitute  of  knowledge,  this  con- 
cession could  have  no  tendency  whatever  to  favor  the  principles 
of  materialism ; as  it  implies  nothing  more  than  that  the  im- 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


47 


pressions  made  on  our  senses  by  external  objects  furnish  the 
occasions  on  which  the  mind,  by  the  laws  of  its  constitution,  is 
led  to  ‘perceive  the  qualities  of  the  material  world,  and  to  exert  all 
the  different  modifications  of  thought  of  which  it  is  capable. 

From  the  very  slight  view  of  the  subject,  however,  which  has 
been  already  given,  it  is  sufficiently  evident,  that  this  doctrine, 
which  refers  the  origin  of  all  our  knowledge  to  the  occasions 
furnished  by  sense,  must  be  received  with  many  limitations. 
That  those  ideas,  which  Mr.  Locke  calls  ideas  of  reflection,  (or 
in  other  words,  the  notions  which  we  form  of  the  subjects  of 
our  own  consciousness,)  are  not  suggested  to  the  mind  immedi- 
ately by  the  sensations  arising  from  the  use  of  our  organs  of 
perception,  is  granted  on  all  hands ; and,  therefore,  the  amount 
of  the  doctrine  now  mentioned  is  nothing  more  than  this  ; that 
the  first  occasions  on  which  our  various  intellectual  faculties  are 
exercised,  are  furnished  by  the  impressions  made  on  our  organs 
of  sense ; and  consequently,  that,  without  these  impressions,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge 
of  our  faculties.  Agreeably  to  this  explanation  of  the  doctrine, 
it  may  undoubtedly  be  said  with  plausibility,  (and  I am  inclined 
to  beheve,  with  truth,)  that  the  occasions  on  which  all  our  no- 
tions are  formed,  are  furnished  either  immediately  or  ultimately 
hy  sense  ; but  if  I am  not  much  mistaken,  this  is  not  the  mean- 
ing which  is  commonly  annexed  to  the  doctrine,  either  by  its 
advocates  or  their  opponents.*  One  thing  at  least  is  obvious, 
that,  in  this  sense,  it  does  not  lead  to  those  consequences  which 
have  interested  one  party  of  philosophers  in  its  defence,  and 
another  in  its  refutation. 

The  faculties  of  the  mind  may  come  into  operation  before  we 
know  of  the  existence  of  the  material  world.  — There  is  another 
very  important  consideration  which  deserves  our  attention  in 
this  argument:  that,  even  on  the  supposition  that  certain  im- 


* [“  AH  knowledge  hegins  with  experience,”  says  Kant,  “ but  all  knowl- 
edge is  not  derived  from  experience.”  I may  always  wake  up  when  the 
clock  strikes  five;  but  it  is  not  necessarily  the  striking  of  the  clock  which 
wakes  me  up.] 


48 


EXTERNAL  PERCEPTION. 


pressions  on  our  organs  of  sense  are  necessary  to  awaken  the 
mind  to  a consciousness  of  its  own  existence,  and  to  give  rise  to 
the  exercise  of  its  various  faculties ; yet  all  this  might  have  hap- 
pened without  our  having  any  knowledge  of  the  qualities,  or  even 
of  the  existence,  of  the  material  world.  To  facilitate  the  admis- 
sion of  this  proposition,  let  us  suppose  a being  formed  in  every 
other  respect  like  man ; but  possessed  of  no  senses,  excepting 
those  of  hearing  and  smelling.  I make  choice  of  these  two 
senses,  because  it  is  obvious,  that,  by  means  of  them  alone,  we 
never  could  have  arrived  at  the  knowledge  of  the  primary  qual- 
ities of  matter,  or  even  of  the  existence  of  things  external.  All 
that  we  could  possibly  have  inferred  from  our  occasional  sensa- 
tions of  smell  and  sound,  would  have  been  that  there  existed 
some  unknown  cause  by  which  they  were  produced. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  a particular  sensation  to  be  excited  in 
the  mind  of  such  a being.  The  moment  this  happens,  he  must 
necessarily  acquire  the  knowledge  of  two  facts  at  once : that  of 
the  existence  of  the  sensation  ; and  that  of  his  own  existence,  as 
a sentient  being.  After  the  sensation  is  at  an  end,  he  can  re- 
member he  felt  it ; he  can  conceive  that  he  feels  it  again.  If  he 
has  felt  a variety  of  different  sensations,  he  can  compare  them 
together  in  respect  of  the  pleasure  or  the  pain  they  have  af- 
forded him ; and  will  naturally  desire  the  return  of  the  agreea- 
ble sensations,  and  be  afraid  of  the  return  of  those  which  were 
painful.  If  the  sensations  of  smell  and  sound  are  both  excited 
in  his  mind  at  the  same  time,  he  can  attend  to  either  of  them  he 
chooses,  and  withdraw  his  attention  from  the  other ; or  he  can 
withdraw  his  attention  from  both,  and  fix  it  on  some  sensation 
he  has  felt  formerly.  In  this  manner,  he  might  be  led,  merely 
by  sensations  existing  in  his  mind,  and  conveying  to  him  no  in- 
formation concerning  matter,  to  exercise  many  of  his  most  im- 
portant faculties ; and  amidst  aU  these  different  modifications 
and  operations  of  his  mind,  he  would  feel,  with  irresistible  con- 
viction, that  they  all  belong  to  one  and  the  same  sentient  and 
intelligent  being ; or,  in  other  words,  that  they  are  all  modifica- 
tions and  operations  of  himself.  I say  nothing,  at  present,  of 
the  various  simple  notions,  (or  simple  ideas,  as  they  are  com- 


ATTENTION. 


49 


monly  called,)  ■whicli  would  arise  in  Ms  mind ; for  example,  the 
ideas  of  number,  of  duration,  of  cause  and  effect,  of  ‘personal  iden- 
tity ; all  of  which,  though  perfectly  unlike  his  sensations,  could 
not  fail  to  be  suggested  by  means  of  them.  Such  a being,  then, 
might  know  all  that  we  know  of  mind  at  present ; and  as  Ms 
language  would  be  appropriated  to  mind  solely,  and  not  borrowed 
by  analogy  from  material  phenomena,  he  would  even  possess 
important  advantages  over  us  in  conducting  the  study  of  pneu- 
matology. 

From  these  observations  it  sufficiently  appears,  what  is  the 
real  amount  of  the  celebrated  doctrine,  wMch  refers  the  origin 
of  all  our  knowledge  to  our  sensations ; and  that,  even  granting 
it  to  be  true,  (which,  for  my  own  part,  I am  disposed  to  do,  in 
the  sense  in  which  I have  now  explained  it,)  it  would  by  no 
means  follow  from  it,  that  our  notions  of  the  operations  of  mind, 
nor  even  many  of  those  notions  wMch  are  commonly  suggested 
to  us,  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  perception  of  external  objects, 
are  necessarily  subsequent  to  our  knowledge  of  the  qualities,  or 
even  of  the  existence,  of  matter. 


C H A P T E E II. 

OF  ATTENTION. 

Attention  necessary  to  memory,  if  not  to  perception.  — When 
we  are  deeply  engaged  in  conversation,  or  occupied  with  any 
speculation  that  is  interesting  to  the  mind,  the  surrounding  ob- 
jects either  do  not  produce  in  us  the  perceptions  they  are  fitted 
to  excite ; or  these  perceptions  are  instantly  forgotten.  A clock, 
for  example,  may  strike  in  the  same  room  with  us,  without  our 
being  able,  next  moment,  to  recollect  whether  we  heard  it  or 
not. 

In  these,  and  similar  cases,  I believe,  it  is  commonly  taken 


50 


ATTENTION. 


for  granted,  that  we  really  do  not  perceive  the  external  object. 
From  some  analogous  facts,  however,  I am  inclined  to  suspect 
that  this  opinion  is  not  well  founded.  A person  who  falls  asleep 
at  church,  and  is  suddenly  awaked,  is  unable  to  recollect  the 
last  words  spoken  by  the  preacher ; or  even  to  recollect  that  he 
was  speaking  at  all.  And  yet,  that  sleep  does  not  suspend  en- 
tirely the  powers  of  perception  may  be  inferred  from  this,  that 
if  the  preacher  were  to  make  a sudden  pause  in  his  discourse, 
every  person  in  the  congregation  who  was  asleep  would  in- 
stantly awake.  In  this  case,  therefore,  it  appears,  that  a 'person 
may  he  conscious  of  a perception,  without  being  able  afterwards 
to  recollect  it. 

Other  instances  illustrating  this  fact.  — Many  other  instances 
of  the  same  general  fact  might  be  produced.  When  we  read  a 
book,  (especially  in  a language  which  is  not  perfectly  familiar 
to  us,)  we  must  perceive  successively  every  different  letter,  and 
must  afterwards  combine  these  letters  into  syllables  and  words, 
before  we  comprehend  the  meaning  of  a sentence.  This  pro- 
cess, however,  passes  through  the  mind,  without  leaving  any 
trace  in  the  memory. 

It  has  been  proved  by  optical  writers,  that,  in  perceiving  the 
distances  of  visible  objects  from  the  eye,  th&re  is  a judgment  of  the 
understanding  antecedent  to  the  perception.*  In  some  cases,  this 


* [“  It  is,  I think,  agreed  by  all,”  says  Berkeley,  “ that  distance  of  itself, 
and  immediately,  cannot  be  seen.  Eor  distance  being  a line  directed  end- 
wise to  the  eye,  it  projects  only  one  point  in  the  fund  of  the  eye  ; which 
point  remains  invariably  the  same,  -whether  the  distance  be  longer  or 
shorter.”  Take  the  following  example.  If  a ti-aveller  on  a dark  night 
and  a strange  road  sees  before  him  a fixed  light  which  is  a mere  bright 
point,  he  cannot  tell  wliether  it  is  a rod  or  a mile  distant  from  him ; he 
may  even  confound  it  with  a star  near  the  horizon.  If  the  light,  however, 
has  a visible  magnitude,  and  especially  if  he  can  see  it  flicker,  so  that  he 
can  form  some  guess  as  to  its  origin  and  nature,  he  may  estimate  its  dis- 
tance very  correctly.  But  even  in  tliis  case,  he  does  not  see  its  distance, 
but  infers  it  from  the  magnitude,  color,  flickering,  or  some  other  circum- 
stance which  previous  experience  has  taught  him  the  meaning  of. 

Many  other  facts  show  the  necessity  of  experience  before  we  can  obtain 
correct  not  ons  of  distance  from  the  eye  alone.  We  are  not  so  much  accus- 


ATTENTION. 


51 


judgment  is  founded  on  a variety  of  circumstances  combined 
together ; the  conformation  of  the  organ  necessary  for  distinct 
vision ; the  inclination  of  the  optic  axes ; the  distinctness  or 
indistinctness  of  the  minute  parts  of  the  object ; the  distances  of 
the  intervening  objects  from  each  other,  and  from  the  eye ; and, 
perhaps,  on  other  circumstances  besides  these : and  yet,  in  con- 
sequence of  our  familiarity  with  such  processes  from  our  earliest 
infancy,  the  perception  seems  to  be  instantaneous ; and  it  re- 
quires much  reasoning,  to  convince  persons  unaccustomed  to 
philosophical  speculations,  that  the  fact  is  otherwise. 

Another  instance,  of  a still  more  familiar  nature,  may  be  of 
use,  for  the  further  illustration  of  the  same  subject.  It  is  well 
known  that  our  thoughts  do  not  succeed  each  other  at  random,  hut 
according  to  certain  laws  of  association,  which  modern  philoso- 
phers have  been  at  much  pains  to  investigate.  It  frequently, 
however,  happens,  particularly  when  the  mind  is  animated  by 
conversation,  that  it  makes  a sudden  transition  from  one  subject 
to  another,  which,  at  fii’st  view,  appears  to  be  very  remote  from 
it ; and  that  it  requires  a considerable  degree  of  refection,  to  en- 
able a -person  himself  by  whom  the  transition  was  made,  to  as- 
certain what  were  the  intermediate  ideas.  A curious  instance  of 
such  a sudden  transition  is  mentioned  by  Hobbes  in  his  Levia- 
than. “ In  a company,”  (says  he,)  “ in  which  the  conversation 
turned  on  the  civil  war,  what  could  be  conceived  more  imperti- 
nent, than  for  a person  to  ask  abruptly.  What  was  the  value  of 
a Roman  denarius  ? On  a little  reflection,  however,  I was  easily 
able  to  trace  the  train  of  thought  which  suggested  the  question : 


tomed  to  see  objects  at  a distance  from  us  in  a vertical  line,  as  in  a horizon- 
tal one ; hence,  the  same  visible  appearance,  if  placed  directly  above  or  be- 
low our  own  position,  does  not  suggest  the  same  magnitude,  as  when  seen 
at  an  equal  distance  on  a level  with  the  eye.  If  we  are  standing  on  the  sea- 
shore, a ship  distant  a few  hundred  feet  appears  of  the  natural  size,  and 
men,  not  pigmies,  walk  her  deck.  But  ascend  to  the  brow  of  the  cliff, 
and 

“ The  fishermen,  that  walk  upon  the  heach, 

Appear  like  mice ; and  yon  tall  anchoring  bark 
Diminished  to  her  cock  ; her  cock,  a buoy 
Almost  too  small  for  sight.”] 


52 


ATTENTION. 


for  the  original  subject  of  discourse  naturally  introduced  the  his- 
tory of  the  king,  and  of  the  treachery  of  those  who  surrendered 
his  person  to  his  enemies ; this  again  introduced  the  treachery 
of  Judas  Iscariot,  and  the  sum  of  money  which  he  received  for 
his  reward.  And  all  this  train  of  ideas,”  says  Hobbes,  “ passed 
through  the  mind  of  the  speaker  in  a twinkling,  in  consequence 
of  the  velocity  of  thought.”  It  is  by  no  means  imjirobable,  that 
if  the  speaker  himself  had  been  interrogated  about  the  connec- 
tion of  ideas,  wliich  led  him  aside  from  the  original  topic  of  dis- 
course, he  would  have  found  himself,  at  first,  at  a loss  for  an 
answer. 

In  the  instances  which  have  been  last  mentioned,  we  have 
also  a proof,  that  a perception  or  an  idea,  which  passes  through 
the  mind  without  leaving  any  trace  in  the  memory,  may  yet  serve 
to  introduce  other  ideas  connected  with  it  by  the  laws  of  associa- 
tion. Other  proofs  of  this  important  fact  shall  be  mentioned 
afterwards. 

When  a perception  or  an  idea  passes  through  the  mind,  with- 
out our  being  able  to  recollect  it  the  next  moment,  the  vulgar 
themselves  ascribe  our  want  of  memory  to  a want  of  attention. 
Thus,  in  the  instance  already  mentioned,  of  the  clock,  a person, 
upon  observing  that  the  minute-hand  had  just  passed  twelve, 
would  naturally  say,  that  he  did  not  attend  to  the  clock  when  it 
was  striking.  There  seems,  therefore,  to  be  a certain  effort  of 
mind  upon  which,  even  in  the  judgment  of  the  vulgar,  memory 
in  some  measure  depends ; and  which  they  distinguish  by  the 
name  of  attention. 

The  connection  between  attention  and  memory  has  been  re- 
marked by  many  authors.  “ Nee  dubium  est,”  (says  Quinetd- 
ian,  speaking  of  memory,)  “ quin  plurimum  in  hac  parte  valeat 
mentis  intentio,  et  velut  acies  luminum  a prospectu  rerum  quas 
intuetur  non  aversa.”  [“  There  is  no  doubt  that  great  effect  is 
produced  by  close  attention,  just  as  vision  is  most  perfect  when 
the  eyes  are  steadily  fixed  on  the  object  seen.”J  The  same  ob- 
servation has  been  made  by  Locke,  and  by  most  of  the  writers 
on  the  subject  of  education. 

Attention  a separate  faculty  of  the  mind.  — But  although  the 


ATTENTION. 


53 


connection  between  attention  and  memory  has  been  frequently 
remarked  in  general  terms,  I do  not  recollect  that  the  power  of 
attention  has  been  mentioned  by  any  of  the  writers  on  pneuma- 
tology,  in  their  enumeration  of  the  faculties  of  the  mind ; * nor 
has  it  been  considered  by  any  one,  so  far  as  I know,  as  of  suffi- 
cient importance  to  deserve  a particular  examination.  Helve- 
tius,  indeed,  in  his  very  ingenious  work,  De  V Esprit,  has  entitled 
one  of  his  chapters,  De  Vinegale  capacity  d' Attention;  but 
what  he  considers  under  this  article,  is  chiefly  that  capacity  of 
patient  inquiry,  (or  as  he  calls  it,  continuous  attention^  upon 
which  philosophical  genius  seems  in  a great  measure  to  depend. 
He  has  also  remarked,  with  the  winters  already  mentioned,  that 
the  impression  which  any  thing  makes  on  the  memory,  depends 
much  on  the  degree  of  attention  we  give  to  it ; but  he  has  taken 
no  notice  of  that  effort  which  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  low- 
est degree  of  memory.  It  is  this  effort  that  I propose  to  con- 
sider at  present : not  those  different  degrees  of  attention  which 
imprint  things  more  or  less  deeply  on  the  mind,  but  that  act  or 
effort  without  which  we  have  no  recollection  or  memory  whatever. 

Some  attention  necessary  for  any  act  of  memory  whatever.  — 
With  respect  to  the  nature  of  this  effort,  it  is  perhaps  impossible 
for  us  to  obtain  much  satisfaction.  We  often  speak  of  greater 
and  less  degrees  of  attention ; and,  I believe,  in  these  cases, 
conceive  the  mind  (if  I may  use  the  expression)  to  exert  itself 
with  different  degrees  of  energy.  I am  doubtful,  however,  if 
this  expression  conveys  any  distinct  meaning.  For  my  own 
part,  I am  inclined  to  suppose,  (though  I would  by  no  means  be 
understood  to  speak  with  confidence,)  that  it  is  essential  to  mem 
ory,  that  the  perception  or  the  idea  that  we  would  wish  to  remember, 
should  remain  in  the  mind  for  a certain  space  of  time,  and  should 

* Some  important  observations  on  the  subject  of  attention  occur  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  Dr.  Eeid’s  writings.  To  this  ingenious  author  we  are 
indebted  for  the  remark,  that  attention  to  things  external  is  properly  called 
observation;  and  attention  to  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  r^ecfiora. 
He  has  also  explained  the  causes  of  the  peculiar  difficulties  which  accom- 
pany this  last  exertion  of  the  mind,  and  which  form  the  chief  obstacles  to 
the  progress  of  pneumatology. 

5 * 


54 


ATTENTION. 


he  contemplated  hy  it  exclusively  of  every  thing  else ; and  that 
attention  consists  partly  (perhaps  entirely)  in  the  effort  of  the 
mind  to  detain  the  idea  or  the  perception,  and  to  exclude  the 
other  objects  that  solicit  its  notice. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  difficulty  of  ascertaining  in 
what  this  act  of  the  mind  consists,  every  person  must  be  satis- 
fied of  its  reality  from  liis  own  consciousness ; and  of  its  essen- 
tial conmiction  with  the  power  of  memory.  I have  already 
mentioned  several  instances  of  ideas  passing  through  the  mind, 
without  our  being  able  to  recollect  them  next  moment.  These  in- 
stances were  produced,  merely  to  illustrate  the  meaning  I annex 
to  the  word  attention  ; and  to  recall  to  the  recollection  of  the 
reader,  a few  striking  cases,  in  which  the  possibility  of  our  car- 
rying on  a process  of  thought  which  we  are  unable  to  attend  to 
at  the  time,  or  to  remember  afterwards,  is  acknowledged  in  the 
received  systems  of  philosophy.  I shall  now  mention  some 
other  phenomena,  which  appear  to  me  to  be  very  similar  to 
these,  and  to  be  explicable  in  the  same  manner ; although  they 
have  commonly  been  referred  to  very  different  principles. 

The  facility  of  action  which  results  from  habit,  explained. — 
The  wonderful  effect  of  practice  in  the  formation  of  habits,  has 
been  often  and  justly  taken  notice  of,  as  one  of  the  most  curious 
circumstances  in  the  human  constitution.  A mechanical  opera- 
tion, for  example,  which  we  at  first  performed  with  the  utmost 
difficulty,  comes,  in  time,  to  be  so  familiar  to  us,  that  we  are 
able  to  perform  it  without  the  smallest  danger  of  mistake ; even 
while  the  attention  appears  to  be  completely  engaged  with  other 
subjects.  The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  in  consequence  of  the 
association  of  ideas,  the  different  steps  of  the  process  present 
themselves  successively  to  the  thoughts  without  any  [effort  of] 
recollection  on  our  part,  and  with  a degree  of  rapidity  propor- 
tioned to  the  length  of  our  experience,  so  as  to  save  us  entirely 
the  trouble  of  hesitation  and  reflection,  by  giving  us  every  mo- 
ment a precise  and  steady  notion  of  the  effect  to  be  produced.* 


* I do  not  mean  by  this  observation,  to  call  in  question  the  effects  which 
the  practice  of  the  mechanical  arts  has  on  the  muscles  of  the  body.  These 


ATTENTION. 


55 


In  the  case  of  some  operations  wliich  are  very  familiar  to  us, 
we  find  ourselves  unable  to  attend  to,  or  to  recollect,  the  acts  of 
the  will  by  which  they  are  preceded ; and  accordingly,  some 
philosophers  of  great  eminence  have  called  in  question  the  ex 
istence  of  such  volitions ; and  have  represented  our  habitual 
actions  as  involuntary  and  mechanical.  But  surely  the  circum- 
stance of  our  inability  to  recollect  our  volitions,  does  not  author- 
ize us  to  dispute  their  possibility ; any  more  than  our  inability 
to  attend  to  the  process  of  the  mind,  iii’  estimating  the  distance 
of  an  object  from  the  eye,  authorizes  us  to  affirm  that  the  per- 
ception is  instantaneous.  Nor  does  it  add  any  force  to  the  ob- 
jection to  urge,  that  there  are  instances  in  which  we  find  it  diffi- 
cult, or  perhaps  impossible,  to  check  our  habitual  actions  by  a 
contrary  volition.  For  it  must  be  remembered,  that  this  con- 
trary volition  does  not  remain  with  us  steadily  during  the  whole 
operation ; but  is  merely  a general  intention  or  resolution,  which 
is  banished  from  the  mind,  as  soon  as  the  occasion  presents 
itself  with  which  the  habitual  train  of  our  thoughts  and  volitions 
is  associated.* * 

It  may  indeed  be  said,  that  these  observations  only  prove  the 
possibility  that  our  habitual  actions  may  he  voluntary.  But  if 
this  be  admitted,  nothing  more  can  well  be  required ; for  surely, 


are  as  indisputable  as  its  effects  on  the  mind.  A man  who  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  write  with  his  right  hand,  can  write  better  with  his  left  hand,  than 
another  who  never  practised  the  art  at  all ; but  he  cannot  write  so  well 
with  his  left  hand  as  with  his  right.  The  effects  of  practice,  therefore,  it 
should  seem,  are  produced  partly  on  the  mind,  and  partly  on  the  body. 

* The  solution  of  this  difficulty,  which  is  given  by  Dr.  Porterfield,  is 
somewhat  curious.  “ Such  is  the  power  of  custom  and  habit,  that  many 
actions  which  are  no  doubt  voluntary,  and  proceed  from  our  mind,  are  in 
certain  circumstances  rendered  necessary,  so  as  to  appear  altogether  me- 
chanical, and  independent  of  our  wills  ; but  it  does  not  from  thence  fol- 
low, that  our  mind  is  not  concerned  in  such  motions,  but  only  that  it  has 
imposed  upon  itself  a law,  whereby  it  regulates  and  governs  them  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  In  all  this,  there  is  nothing  of  intrinsical  necessity ; 
the  mind  is  at  absolute  liberty  to  act  as  it  pleases  ; but  being  a wise  agent, 
it  cannot  choose  but  to  act  in  conformity  to  tins  law,  by  reason  of  the  util- 
ity and  advantage  that  arises  from  this  way  of  acting.” 


56 


ATTENTION. 


if  these  phenomena  are  clearly  explicable  from  the  known  and 
acknowledged  laws  of  the  human  mind,  it  would  be  unphilo- 
sophical  to  devise  a new  principle,  on  purpose  to  account  for 
them.  The  doctrine,  therefore,  which  I have  laid  down  with 
respect  to  the  nature  of  habits,  is  by  no  means  founded  on  hy- 
pothesis, as  has  been  objected  to  me  by  some  of  my  friends ; 
but  on  the  contrary,  the  charge  of  hypothesis  falls  on  those  who 
attempt  to  explain  them  by  saying  that  they  are  mechanical  or 
automatic  ; a doctrine  which,  if  it  is  at  all  intelligible,  must  be 
understood  as  implying  the  existence  of  some  law  of  our  consti- 
tution, which  has  been  hitherto  unobserved  by  philosophers ; 
and  to  which,  I believe,  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  any  thing 
analogous  in  our  constitution. 

Reid  and  Hartley  on  habits  in  which  both  body  and  mind  are 
concerned.  — In  the  foregoing  observations,  I have  had  in  view 
a favorite  doctrine  of  Dr.  Hartley’s,  which  has  been  maintained 
also  of  late  by  a much  higher  authority,  I mean  Dr.  Reid. 

“ Habit,”  (says  this  ingenious  author,)  “ differs  from  instinct, 
not  in  its  nature,  but  in  its  origin ; the  last  being  natural,  the 
first  acquired.  Both  operate  without  wiU  or  intention,  without 
thought,  and  therefore  may  be  called  mechanical  principles.” 
In  another  passage,  he  expresses  himself  thus : “ I conceive  it 
to  be  a part  of  our  constitution,  that  what  we  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  do,  we  acquire  not  only  a facility,  but  a proneness,  to 
do  on  like  occasions ; so  that  it  requires  a particular  will  or 
effort  to  forbear  it ; but  to  do  it  requires,  very  often,  no  will 
at  all.” 

The  same  doctrine  is  laid  down  still  more  explicitly  by  Dr. 
Hartley. 

“ Suppose,”  says  he,  “ a person  who  has  a perfectly  voluntary 
command  over  his  fingers,  to  begin  to  learn  to  play  on  the  harp- 
sichord. The  first  step  is  to  move  his  fingers  from  key  to  key, 
with  a slow  motion,  looking  at  the  notes,  and  exerting  an  ex- 
press act  of  volition  in  every  motion.  By  degrees,  the  motions 
cling  to  one  another  and  to  the  impressions  of  the  notes,  in  the 
way  of  association  so  often  mentioned,  the  acts?  of  volition  grow- 
ing less  and  less  express  all  the  time,  till  at  last  they  become 


ATTENTION. 


57 


evanescent  and  imperceptible.  For  an  expert  performer  will 
play  from  notes,  or  ideas  laid  up  in  tbe  memory,  and  at  the 
same  time  carry  on  quite  a different  train  of  thoughts  in  his 
mind  ; or  even  hold  a conversation  with  another.  Whence  we 
may  conclude,  that  there  is  no  intervention  of  the  idea,  or  state 
of  mind,  called  the  will.”  Cases  of  this  sort.  Hartley  ualls, 
“ transitions  of  voluntary  actions  into  automatic  ones.” 

Confutation  of  Hartley’s  doctrine.  — I cannot  help  thinking 
it  more  philosophical  to  suppose,  that  those  actions  which  are 
originally  voluntary,  always  continue  so  ; although,  in  the  case 
of  operations  which  are  become  habitual  in  consequence  of  long 
practice,  we  may  not  be  able  to  recollect  every  different  volition. 
Thus,  in  the  case  of  a performer  on  the  harpsichord,  I appre- 
hend, that  there  is  an  act  of  the  will  preceding  every  motion  of 
every  finger,  although  he  may  not  be  able  to  recollect  these  vo- 
litions afterwards ; and  although  he  may,  during  the  time  of  his 
performance,  be  employed  in  carrying  on  a separate  train  of 
thought.  For,  it  must  be  remarked  that  the  most  rapid  per- 
former can,  when  he  pleases,  play  so  slowly,  as  to  be  able  to 
attend  to,  and  to  recollect,  every  separate  act  of  his  will  in  the 
various  movements  of  his  fingers  ; and  he  can  gradually  acceler- 
ate the  rate  of  his  execution,  till  he  is  unable  to  recollect  these 
acts.  Now  in  this  instance,  one  of  two  suppositions  must  be 
made ; the  one  is,  that  the  operations  in  the  two  cases  are  car- 
ried on  precisely  in  the  same  manner,  and  differ  only  in  the 
degree  of  rapidity ; and  when  this  rapidity  exceeds  a certain 
rate,  the  acts  of  the  will  are  too  momentary  to  leave  any  im- 
pression on  the  memory.  The  other  is,  that  when  the  rapidity 
exceeds  a certain  rate,  the  operation  is  taken  entirely  out  of  our 
hands ; and  is  carried  on  by  some  unknown  power,  of  the  na- 
ture of  which  we  are  as  ignorant,  as  of  the  cause  of  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood,  or  of  the  motion  of  the  intestines.*  The  last 


* This  seems  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  Bishop  Berkeley,  whose  doc- 
trine concerning  the  nature  of  our  habitual  actions,  coincides  with  that  of 
the  two  philosophers  already  quoted.  “ It  must  he  owned,  we  are  not 
conscious  of  the  systole  and  diastole  of  the  heart,  or  the  motion  of  the  dia- 


58 


ATTENTION. 


supposition  seems  to  me  to  be  somewhat  similar  to  that  of  a 
man,  who  should  maintain,  that,  although  a body  projected  with 
a moderate  velocity  is  seen  to  pass  through  aU  the  intermediate 
spaces  in  moving  from  one  place  to  another,  yet  we  are  not  en- 
titled to  conclude,  that  this  happens  when  the  body  moves  so 
quickly  as  to  become  invisible  to  the  eye.  The  former  suppo- 
sition is  supported  by  the  analogy  of  many  other  facts  in  our 
constitution.  Of  some  of  these,  I have  already  taken  notice ; 
and  it  would  be  easy  to  add  to  the  number.  An  expert  account- 
ant, for  example,  can  sum  up,  almost  with  a single  glance  of  his 
eye,  a long  column  of  figures.  He  can  tell  the  sum  with  uner- 
ring certainty ; while,  at  the  same  time,  he  is  unable  to  recol- 
lect any  one  of  the  figures  of  which  that  sum  is  composed : and 
yet  nobody  doubts,  that  each  of  these  figures  has  passed  through 
his  mind,  or  supposes,  that  when  the  rapidity  of  the  progress 
becomes  so  great  that  he  is  unable  to  recollect  the  various  steps 
of  it,  he  obtains  the  result  by  a sort  of  inspiration.  This  last 
supposition  would  be  perfectly  analogous  to  Dr.  Hartley’s  doc- 
trine concerning  the  nature  of  our  habitual  exertions. 

Rapidity  of  the  mind's  action.  — The  only  plausible  objection 
which,  I think,  can  be  offered  to  the  principles  I have  endeav- 
ored to  establish  on  this  subject,  is  founded  on  the  astonishing, 
and  almost  incredible,  rapidity  they  necessarily  suppose  in  our 
intellectual  operations.  When  a person,  for  example,  reads 
aloud,  there  must,  according  to  this  doctrine,  be  a separate  vo- 
lition preceding  the  articulation  of  every  letter ; and  it  has  been 


phragm.  It  may  not,  nevertheless,  be  thence  inferred,  that  unknowing 
nature  can  act  regularly  as  well  as  ourselves.  The  true  inference  is,  that 
the  self  thinking  individual,  or  human  person,  is  not  the  real  author  of 
those  natural  motions.  And,  in  fact,  no  man  blames  himself,  if  they  are 
wrong,  or  values  himself,  if  they  are  right.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
fingers  of  a musician,  which  some  object  to  be  moved  by  habit,  which  un- 
derstands not ; it  being  evident  that  what  is  done  by  rule,  must  proceed 
from  something  that  understands  the  rule ; therefore,  if  not  from  the  mu- 
sician himself,  from  some  other  active  intelligence ; the  same,  perhaps, 
which  governs  bees  and  spiders,  and  moves  the  limbs  of  those  who  walk 
in  their  sleep.” 


ATTENTION. 


59 


found,  by  actual  trial, ^ that  it  is  possible  to  pronounce  about 
two  thousand  letters  in  a minute.  Is  it  reasonable  to  suppose, 


* “ The  contractions  of  the  muscles  take  place  and  are  repeated  with 
incredible  quickness.  We  see  this  in  the  running  of  animals,  especially 
of  quadrupeds ; and  in  the  movement  of  the  tongue,  which  articulates  in  a 
minute  about  400  words,  comprising  perhaps  2,000  letters  ; though  for  the 
enunciation  of  many  of  the  letters,  several  contractions  of  the  muscles  are 
necessary.”  — Gregory’s  View  of  the  Them'y  of  Medicine. 

In  Gibbon’s  Posthumous  Works,  I find  a statement  still  more  curious, 
as  it  relates  to  the  number  of  words  pronounced  in  a given  time  by  a 
speaker,  in  the  course  of  an  extempore  speech.  “As  I was  waiting  in  the 
manager’s  box  at  Mr.  Hastings’  trial  in  Westminster  Hall,  I had  the  curi- 
osity to  inquire  of  the  shorthand  writer,  how  many  words  a ready  and 
rapid  orator  might  pronounce  in  an  hour  ? Prom  7,000  to  7,500  was  the 
answer.  The  medium  of  7,200  will  afford  120  words  in  each  minute.” 

In  this  instance,  however,  here  referred  to  by  Gibbon,  the  business  of 
articulation  forms  but  a very  inconsiderable  part  of  the  voluntary  exertions 
the  speaker  is  incessantly  making.  One  of  his  efforts,  and  a very  compli- 
cated and  wonderful  one,  is  taken  notice  of  by  Quinctilian  in  the  follow- 
ing passage  : “ But  after  all,  what  is  extemporary  speaking,  but  a vigor- 
ous exertion  of  memory  [and  of  attention]  ? Por  when  we  are  speaking 
of  one  thing,  we  are  premeditating  another  that  we  are  about  to  speak. 
This  premeditation  is  carried  forward  to  other  objects,  and  whatever  dis- 
coveries it  makes,  it  deposits  them  in  the  memory;  and  thus  the  invention 
having  placed  it  there,  the  memory  becomes  a kind  of  intermediate  instru 
ment  that  hands  it  to  the  elocution.” 

A much  more  comprehensive  view,  however,  of  this  astonishingly  com- 
plicated exertion  of  the  mind,  is  given  by  Dr.  Reid. 

“Prom  what  cause  does  it  happen,  that  a good  speaker  no  sooner  con- 
ceives what  he  would  express,  than  the  letters,  syllables,  and  words  ar- 
range themselves  according  to  innumerable  rules  of  speech,  while  he  never 
thinks  of  these  rules  ? He  means  to  express  certain  sentiments  ; in  order 
to  do  this  properly,  a selection  must  be  made  of  the  materials  out  of  many 
thousands.  He  makes  this  selection  without  any  expense  of  time  or 
thought.  The  materials  selected  must  be  arranged  in  a particular  order, 
according  to  innumerable  rules  ’of  grammar,  rhetoric,  and  logic,  and  ac- 
companied wth  a particular  tone  and  emphasis.  He  does  all  this  as  it 
were  by  inspiration,  without  thinking  of  any  of  those  rules,  and  withou  t 
breaking  one  of  them. 

“ This  art,  if  it  were  not  so  common,  would  appear  more  wonderful, 
than  that  a man  should  dance  blindfold  amidst  a thousand  burning  plough- 
shares, without  being  burnt.  Yet  all  this  may  be  done  by  habit.” 

. It  must  he  owned,  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive,  that,  in  such  a case  as 


60 


ATTENTION. 


that  the  mind  is  capable  of  so  many  different  acts  in  an  interval 
of  time  so  very  inconsiderable  ? 

With  respect  to  this  objection,  it  may  he  observed,  in  the  first 
place,  that  all  arguments  against  the  foregoing  doctrine  with  re- 
spect to  our  habitual  exertions,  in  so  far  as  they  are  founded 
on  the  inconceivable  rapidity  which  they  suppose  in  our  intel- 
lectual operations,  apply  equally  to  the  common  doctrine  con- 
cerning our  perception  of  distance  by  the  eye.  But  this  is  not 
all.  To  what  does  the  supposition  amount,  which  is  considered 
as  so  incredible  ? Only  to  this,  that  the  mind  is  so  formed,  as 
to  be  able  to  carry  on  certain  intellectual  processes,  in  intervals 
of  time  too  short  to  be  estimated  by  our  faculties ; a supposition 
which,  so  far  from  being  extravagant,  is  supported  by  the  anal- 
ogy of  many  of  our  most  certain  conclusions  in  natural  philoso- 
phy. The  discoveries  made  by  the  microscope,  have  laid  open 
to  our  senses  a world  of  wonders,  the  existence  of  which  hardly 
any  man  would  have  admitted  upon  inferior  evidence ; and  have 
gradually  prepared  the  way  for  those  physical  speculations, 
which  explain  some  of  the  most  extraordinary  phenomena  of 
nature,  by  means  of  modifications  of  matter  far  too  subtile  for 
the  examination  of  our  organs.  Why  then  should  it  be  consid- 
ered as  unphilosophical,  after  having  demonstrated  the  exist- 
ence of  various  intellectual  processes  which  escape  our  atten- 
tion in  consequence  of  their  rapidity,  to  carry  the  supposition 
a little  further,  in  order  to  bring  under  the  known  laws  of  the 
human  constitution  a class  of  mental  operations,  which  must 
otherwise  remain  perfectly  inexplicable  ? Surely,  our  ideas  of 
time  are  merely  relative,  as  well  as  our  ideas  of  extension  ; nor 
is  there  any  good  reason  for  doubting,  that,  if  our  powers  of 
attention  and  memory  Avere  more  perfect  than  they  are,  so  as 


tills,  there  is  a separate  act  of  the  will  accompanying  all  the  intellectual 
ojierations  here  described  ; and  therefore  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
philosophers  should  have  attempted  to  keep  the  difficulty  out  of  sight,  by 
the  use  of  one  of  these  convenient  phrases  to  which  it  is  not  possible  to  an- 
nex a clear  or  a precise  idea.  This,  at  least,  I must  confess,  is  the  case 
with  me,  with  respect  to  the  words  mechanical,  automatical,  and  organical, 
as  emploj ’d  on  this  occasion 


ATTENTION. 


61 


to  give  us  the  same  advantage  in  examining  rapid  events,  which 
the  microscope  gives  for  examining  minute  portions  of  exten- 
sion, they  would  enlarge  our  views  with  respect  to  the  intellec- 
tual world,  no  less  than  that  instrument  has  with  respect  to  the 
material. 

It  may  contribute  to  remove,  still  more  completely,  some  of 
the  scruples  which  are  naturally  suggested  by  the  foregoing 
doctrine,  to  remark,  that,  as  the  great  use  of  attention  and  mem- 
ory is  to  enable  us  to  treasure, up  the  results  of  our  experience 
and  reflection  for  the  future  regulation  of  our  conduct,  it  would 
have  answered  no  purpose  for  the  Author  of  our  nature  to  have 
extended  their  province  to  those  intervals  of  time,  which  we 
have  no  occasion  to  estimate  in  the  common  business  of  life. 
All  the  intellectual  processes  I have  mentioned  are  subservient 
to  some  particular  end,  either  of  perception  or  of  action ; and  it 
would  have  been  perfectly  superfluous,  if,  after  this  end  were 
gained,  the  steps  which  are  instrumental  in  bringing  it  about, 
were  all  treasured  up  in  the'  memory.  Such  a constitution  of 
our  nature  would  have  had  no  other  effect  but  to  store  the  mind 
with  a variety  of  useless  particulars. 

After  aU  I have  said,  it  will  perhaps  be  still  thought,  that 
some  of  the  reasonings  I have  offered  are  too  hypothetical ; and 
it  is  even  possible,  that  some  may  be  disposed  rather  to  dispute 
the  common  theory  of  vision,  than  admit  the  conclusions  I have 
endeavored  to  establish.  To  such  readers,  the  following  consid- 
erations may  be  of  use,  as  they  afford  a more  palpable  instance 
than  I have  yet  mentioned,  of  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
thoughts  may  be  trained,  by  practice,  to  shift  from  one  thing  to 
another. 

Instances  of  the  quicicness  of  mental  operation,  — When  an 
equilibrist  balances  a rod  upon  his  finger,  not  only  the  attention 
of  his  mind,  but  the  observation  of  his  eye,  is  constantly  requi- 
site. It  is  evident  that  the  part  of  his  body  which  supports  the 
object  is  never  wholly  at  rest ; otherwise  the  object  would  no 
more  stand  upon  it,  than  if  placed  in  the  same  position  upon  a 
table.  The  equilibrist,  therefore,  must  watch,  in  the  very  be- 
ginning, every  inclination  of  the  object  from  the  proper  position, 

6 


62 


ATTENTION. 


in  order  to  counteract  this  inclination  by  a contrary  movement. 
In  this  manner,  the  object  has  never  time  to  fall  in  any  one 
direction,  and  is  supported  in  a way  somewhat  analogous  to  that 
in  which  a top  is  supported  on  a- pivot,  by  being  made  to  spin 
upon  an  axis.  That  a person  should  be  able  to  do  this  in  the 
case  of  a single  object,  is  curious ; but  that  he  should  be  able  to 
balance,  in  the  same  way,  two  or  three,  upon  different  parts  of 
his  body,  and  at  the  same  time  balance  himself  on  a small  cord 
or  wire,  is  indeed  wonderful.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive 
that,  in  such  an  instance,  the  mind,  at  one  and  the  same  mo- 
ment, attends  to  these  dilferent  equilibriums ; for  it  is  not  merely 
the  attention  which  is  requisite,  but  the  eye.  We  must  there- 
fore conclude  that  both  of  these,  [the  mind  and  the  eye,]  are 
directed  successively  to  the  different  equilibriums,  but  change 
from  one  object  to  another  with  such  velocity,  that  the  effect, 
with  respect  to  the  experiment,  is  the  same  as  if  they  were 
directed  to  all  the  objects  constantly. 

It  is  worth  while  to  remark  further,  with  respect  to  this  last 
illustration,  that  it.  affords  direct  evidence  of  the  possibility  of 
our  exerting  acts  of  the  will,  which  we  are  unable  to  reeollect ; 
for  the  movements  of  the  equilibrist  do  not  succeed  each  other 
in  a regular  order,  like  those  of  the  harpsichord  player  in  per- 
forming a pieee  of  music ; but  must,  in  every  instance,  be  regu- 
lated by  accidents,  which  may  vary  in  numberless  respects,  and 
which  indeed  must  vary  in  numberless  respects,  every  time  he 
repeats  the  experiment:  and  therefore,  although,  in  the  former 
case,  we  should  suppose,  with  Hartley,  “ that  the  motions  cling 
to  one  another,  and  to  the  impressions  of  the  notes,  in  the  way 
of  association,  without  any  intervention  of  the  state  of  mind 
called  will,”  yet  in  this  instanee,  even  the  possibility  of  such  a 
supposition  is  directly  contradicted  by  the  fact. 

The  dexterity  of  jugglers  (which,  by  the  way,  merits  a greater 
degree  of  attention  from  philosophers,  than  it  has  yet  atti’acted,) 
affords  many  curious  illustrations  of  the  same  doctrine.  The 
whole  of  this  art  seems  to  me  to  be  founded  on  this  principle  ; 
that  it  is  possible  for  a person,  by  long  practice,  to  acquire  a 
power,  not  only  of  carrying  on  certain  intellectual  processes 


AX  1 11.NTI0JS* 


63 


more  quickly  than  other  men,  (for  all  the  feats  of  legerdermain 
suppose  the  exercise  of  observation,  thought,  and  volition,)  hut 
of  performing  a variety  of  movements  with  the  hand,  before  the 
eyes  of  a company,  in  an  interval  of  time  too  short  to  enable 
the  spectators  to  exert  that  degree  of  attention  which  is  neces- 
sary to  lay  a foundation  for  memory.* 

* Mr.  Locke,  in  his  Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  has  taken  notice 
of  the  quickness  with  which  the  operations  of  tlie  mind  are  carried  on,  and 
has  refen-ed  to  the  acquired  perceptions  of  sight  as  a proof  of  it. 

“ We  are  further  to  consider,  concerning  perception,  that  the  ideas  we 
receive  by  sensation  are  often,  in  grown  people,  altered  by  the  judgment, 
without  our  taking  notice  of  it,  MTien  we  set  before  our  eyes  a round 
globe  of  any  uniform  color,  for  example,  gold,  alabaster,  or  jet,  it  is  certain 
that  the  idea  thereby  imprinted  on  our  mind  is  of  a flat  circle,  variously 
shadowed,  with  several  degrees  of  light  and  brightness  coming  to  our  eyes. 
But  we,  having  by  use  been  accustomed  to  perceive  what  kind  of  appear- 
ance convex  bodies  are  wont  to  make  in  us,  and  what  alterations  are  made 
in  the  reflections  of  light  by  the  difference  of  the  sensible  figure  of  bodies ; 
the  judgment  presently,  by  a habitual  custom,  alters  the  appearances  into 
their  causes  ; so  that,  from  that  which  truly  is  variety  of  shadow  or  color, 
collecting  the  figure,  it  makes  it  pass  for  a mark  of  figure,  and  frames  to 
itself  a perception  of  convex  figure,  and  an  uniform  color  ; when  the  idea 
we  receive  from  thence  is  only  a plane  variously  colored  ; as  is  evident  in 
painting.” — Chap.  ix.  sec.  8. 

“ But  this  is  not,  I think,  usual  in  any  of  our  ideas  but  those  received 
by  sight ; because  sight,  the  most  comprehensive  of  all  our  senses,  convey- 
ing to  our  minds  the  ideas  of  lights  and  colors,  which  are  peculiar  only  to 
that  sense,  and  also  the  far  different  ideas  of  space,  figure,  and  motion,  the 
several  varieties  whereof  change  the  appearances  of  its  proper  object, 
namely,  light  and  colors,  we  bring  ourselves  by  use  to  judge  of  the  one  by 
the  other.  This,  in  many  cases,  by  a settled  habit  in  things  whereof  we 
have  frequent  experience,  is  performed  so  constantly,  and  so  quick,  that 
we  take  that  for  the  perception  of  our  sensation,  which  is  an  idea  formed 
by  our  judgment ; so  that  one,  namely,  that  of  sensation,  serv'es  only  to 
excite  the  other,  and  is  scarce  taken  any  notice  of  itself ; as  a man  who 
reads  or  hears  with  attention  and  understanding,  takes  little  notice  of  the 
character  or  sounds,  but  of  the  ideas  that  are  excited  in  him  by  them. 

“ Nor  need  we  wonder  that  this  is  done  with  so  little  notice,  if  we  con- 
sider how  very  quick  the  actions  of  the  mind  are  performed  ; for  as  itself 
is  thought  to  take  up  no  space,  to  have  no  extension,  so  its  actions  seem 
to  require  no  time,  but  many  of  them  seem  to  be  crowded  into  an  instant. 
I speak  this  in  comparison  with  the  actions  of  the  body.  Any  one  may 


64 


ATTENTION. 


Hie  will  does  not  control  the  vital  motions.  — As  some  pMlos- 
ophers  have  disputed  the  influence  of  the  will  in  the  case  of 
habits,  so  others  (particularly  Stahl  and  his  followers)  have 
gone  into  the  opposite  extreme,  by  referring  to  the  will  all  the 
vital  motions  [such  as  the  beating  of  the  heart,  the  peristaltic 


easily  observe  this  in  bis  own  thoughts,  who  will  take  the  pains  to  reflect 
on  them.  How,  as  it  were  in  an  instant,  do  our  minds,  with  one  glance, 
see  all  parts  of  a demonstration,  which  may  very  well  be  called  a long  one, 
if  we  consider  the  time  it  will  require  to  put  it  into  words,  and  step  by 
step  show  it  to  another  % Secondly,  we  shall  not  be  much  surpiised  that 
this  is  done  in  us  with  so  little  notice,  if  we  consider  how  the  facility  which 
we  get  of  doing  things  by  a custom  of  doing,  makes  them  often  pass  in  us 
without  our  notice.  Habits,  especially  such  as  are  begun  very  early,  come 
at  last  to  produce  actions  in  us,  which  often  escape  our  observation.  How 
frequently  do  we  in  a day  cover  our  eyes  with  our  eyelids,  without  per- 
ceiving that  we  are  at  all  in  the  dark  ! Men  that  by  custom  have  got  the 
use  of  a byword,  do  almost  in  every  sentence  pronounce  sounds,  which, 
though  taken  notice  of  by  others,  they  themselves  neither  hear  nor  ob- 
serve; and,  therefore,  it  is  not  so  strange  that  our  mind  should  often 
change  the  idea  of  its  sensation  into  that  of  its  judgment,  and  make  one 
serve  only  to  excite  the  other,  without  our  taking  notice  of  it.”  — Ibid, 
secs.  9,  10. 

The  habit  mentioned  by  Locke,  in  this  paragraph,  of  occasionally  wink- 
ing with  the  eyelids,  (which  is  not  accompanied  with  any  memory  of  our 
being,  in  every  such  instance,  in  a momentary  state  of  total  darkness,)  de- 
serves to  be  added  to  the  cases  already  mentioned,  to  show  the  dependence 
of  memory  upon  attention. 

[Stewart  and  Locke  are  here  mistaken  in  supposing  that,  when  the  eye- 
lids wink,  we  arc  placed  “ in  a momentary  state  of  total  darkness.”  It  is 
a well  ascertained  fact,  that  impressions  made  upon  the  retina  of  the  eye 
continue  for  about  an  eighth  of  a second  after  the  object  which  produces 
them  is  removed.  An  obvious  illustration  of  this  fact  is  the  familiar  ex- 
periment of  whirling  round  in  a circle  a stick  which  is  tipped  with  fire  ; the 
sensation  then  produced  is  that  of  a continuous  circle  of  fire,  because  the 
impression  made  by  the  fiery  end  at  each  point  in  the  circle  continues  until 
the  stick  comes  round  to  that  point  again.  In  winking,  the  eyelids  being 
closed  less  than  the  eighth  part  of  a second,  the  sensation  of  the  light  and  of 
olyects  before  us  is  not  at  all  interrupted  ; no  darkness  is  perceived.  Just 
so,  if  a humming  top,  which  has  an  orifice,  about  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
square,  in  its  periphery,  is  spun  rapidly,  the  orifice  becomes  invisible,  be- 
cause the  impression  left  by  the  unbroken  portion  of  the  periphery  then 
becomes  continuous.] 


ATTENTION. 


65 


motion  of  the  intestines,  etc.]  If  it  be  admitted,  say  these  phi- 
losophers, that  there  are  instances  in  which  we  will  an  effect, 
without  being  able  to  make  it  an  object  of  attention,  is  it  not 
possible  that,  what  we  commonly  call  the  vital  and  involuntary 
motions,  may  be  the  consequences  of  our  own  thought  and  voli- 
tion? But  there  is  surely  a wide  difference  between  those 
cases,  in  which  the  mind  was  at  first  conscious  of  thought  and 
volition,  and  gradually  lost  the  power  of  attending  to  them,  from 
the  growing  rapidity  of  the  intellectual  process ; and  a case  in 
which  the  effect  itself  is  perfectly  unknown  to  the  bulk  of  man- 
kind, even  after  they  arrive  at  maturity,  and  in  which  this  effect 
has  continued  to  take  place  with  the  most  perfect  regularity, 
from  the  very  beginning  of  their  animal  existence,  and  long  be- 
fore the  first  dawn  of  either  reflection  or  experience. 

Some  of  the  followers  of  Stahl  have  stated  the  fact  rather  in- 
accurately, even  in  respect  to  our  habitual  exertions.  Thus  Dr. 
Porterfield,  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Eye,  is  at  pains  to  prove  that 
the  soul  may  think  and  will  without  knowledge  or  consciousness. 
But  this,  I own,  is  to  me  inconceivable.  The  true  state  of  the 
fact,  I apprehend  is,  that  the  mind  may  think  and  will,  without 
attending  to  its  thoughts  and  volitions,  so  as  to  he  able  afterwards 
to  recollect  them.  Nor  is  this  merely  a verbal  criticism ; for 
there  is  an  important  diference  between  consciousness  and  at- 
tention, which  it  is  very  necessary  to  keep  in  view,  in  order  to 
think  upon  this  subject  with  any  degree  of  precision.*  The  one 
is  an  involuntary  state  of  the  mind ; the  other  is  a voluntary 
act ; the  one  has  no  immediate  connection  with  memory ; but 
the  other  is  so  essentially  subservient  to  it,  that,  without  some 
degree  of  it,  the  ideas  and  perceptions  which  pass  through  the 
mind,  seem  to  leave  no  trace  behind  them,  f 


* The  distinction  between  attention  and  consciousness  is  pointed  out  bj 
Dr.  Eeid.  “ Attention  is  a voluntary  act ; it  requires  an  active  exertion  to 
begin  and  to  continite  it,  and  it  may  be  continued  as  long  as  we  will ; but 
consciousness  is  involuntary,  and  of  no  continuance,  changing  with  every 
thought.” 

t [Here,  and  elsewhere,  Stewart  assumes  too  absolutely,  that  every  act 
Or  movement  is  either  entirely  voluntary  or  entirely  involuntary.  But  the 

6* 


66 


ATTENTION. 


How  the  attention  is  distributed  among  simultaneous  sensations. 
— When  two  persons  are  speaking  to  us  at  once,  we  can  attend 

control  which  the  will  exercises,  according  to  the  best  physiologists,  is 
often  partial  or  imperfect.  “ There  are  many  involuntary  movements,” 
says  Miiller,  an  eminent  physiologist,  “performed  by  muscles  which  are 
[generally]  subject  to  the  will,  — movements  in  some  cases  following  as 
regular  a rhythm  as  do  the  motions  of  the  heart.  Certain  muscles  also, 
which  are  quite  independent  of  the  influence  of  the  will,  arc  nevertheless 
influenced  by  particular  states  of  the  mind.” 

The  associate  or  consensual  movements  are  those  “ which,  contrary  to  our 
will,  accompany  other,  voluntary,  motions.  . . . Very  few  persons  indeed 
can  cause  the  different  muscles  of  the  face  to  act  singly ; they  cannot,  in 
most  instances,  make  the  individual  muscles  act,  except  in  groups  with 
other  muscles.”  We  find  a difficulty  in  calling  into  action  separately  the 
different  fingers  of  the  same  hand  ; in  extending,  for  instance,  the  third  or 
fourth  finger  without  extending  at  the  same  time  the  first  and  second. 
The  muscles  of  the  eyes  have  this  tendency  to  association ; it  is  impossi- 
ble, for  example,  to  turn  one  eye  downwards  and  the  other  outwards,  or 
both  outwards  at  the  same  time.  When,  one  eye  is  turned  outwards,  the 
other  is  always  rotated  involuntarily  inwards.  During  violent  bodily  ex- 
ertion, many  muscles  act  by  association,  although  their  action  shows  no 
apparent  purpose ; a man  using  great  muscular  exertion  m'oves  the  mus- 
cles of  his  face,  as  if  they  were  aiding  him  in  raising  his  load ; during  la- 
bored respiration,  and  in  persons  in  a state  of  debility,  the  muscles  of  the 
face  act  simultaneously,  but  involuntarily ; alt]iough,  except  by  raising  the 
“ wings  of  the  nostrils,”  they  can  in  no  way  assist  respiration. 

“ The  less  perfect  the  action  of  the  nervous  system,”  continues  Muller, 
“ the  more  frequently  do  associate  motions  occur.  It  is  only  by  education 
that  we  acquire  the  power  of  confining  the  influence  of  volition  in  the  pro- 
duction of  voluntary  motions  to  a certain  number  of  nervous  fibres  issuing 
from  the  brain.  An  awkward  person,  in  performing  one  voluntary  move- 
ment, makes  many  others,  which  are  produced  involuntarily  by  consen- 
sual nervous  action.  In  the  piano-forte  player,  we  have  an  example,  on 
the  other  hand,  of  the  faculty  of  insulation  of  the  nervous  influence  in  its 
highest  perfection.” 

Now,  if  education  and  habit,  as  is  here  stated,  can  insulate  movements 
which  are  by  nature  consensual,  if  they  can  enable  us  to  perform  separately 
motions  which  were  originally  associated,  it  would  seem  that  education  and 
habit  might  also  associate  acts  which  were  at  first  independent  of  each 
other,  or,  in  other  words,  might  teach  us  to  perform  by  a single  effort  of 
the  will  several  movements  each  of  which  originally  required  a distinct  vo- 
lition. To  adopt  Stewart’s  illustration,  the  equilibrist  or  the  rope-dancer 
may  need  but  one  volition  to  put  in  motion  several  distinct  muscles  whose 


ATTENTION. 


67 


to  either  of  them  at  pleasure,  without  being  much  disturbed  by 
the  other.  If  we  attempt  to  hsten  to  both,  we  can  understand 
neither.  The  fact  seems  to  be,  that  when  we  attend  constantly 
to  one  of  the  speakers,  the  words  spoken  by  the  other  make  no 
impression  on  the  memory,  in  consequence  of  our  not  attending 
to  them ; and  affect  us  as  little  as  if  they  had  not  been  uttered. 
This  power,  however,  of  the  mind  to  attend  to  either  speaker  at 
pleasure,  supposes  that  it  is,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  conscious 
of  the  sensations  which  both  produce. 

Another  well-known  fact  may  be  of  use  in  illustrating  the 
same  distinction.  A person  who  accidentally  loses  his  sight, 
never  fails  to  improve  gradually  in  the  sensibility  of  his  touch. 
Now,  there  are  only  two  ways  of  explaining  this.  The  one  is, 
that,  in  consequence  of  the  loss  of  the  one  sense,  some  change 
takes  place  in  the  physical  constitution  of  the  body,  so  as  to  im- 
prove a different  organ  of  perception.  The  other,  that  the 
mind  gradually  acquires  a power  of  attending  to  and  remember- 
ing those  shghter  sensations  of  which  it  was  formerly  conscious, 
but  which,  from  our  habits  of  inattention,  made  no  impression 
whatever  on  the  memory.  No  one,  surely,  can  hesitate  for  a 
moment,  in  pronouncing  which  of  these  two  suppositions  is  the 
most  philosophical. 

Having  treated,  at  considerable  length,  of  those  habits  in 
which  both  mind  and  body  are  concerned,  I proceed  to  make  a 
few  remarks  on  some  phenomena  which  are  purely  intellectual ; 
and  which,  I think,  are  explicable  on  the  same  principles  with 
those  which  have  been  now  under  our  review. 

The  influence  of  attention  on  memory  illustrated  hy  phenomena 
and  habits  purely  intellectual.  — Every  person  who  has  studied 
the  elements  of  geometry,  must  have  observed  many  cases  in 
which  the  truth  of  a theorem  struck  him  the  moment  he  heard  the 
enunciation.  I do  not  allude  to  those  theorems,  the  truth  of 


joint  action  is  necessary  to  enable  him  to  recover  his  balance.  The  mus- 
cular contractions  that  were  originally  isolated  come,  as  it  were,  to  cling 
together,  and  take  place  under  a single  volition,  as  when  both  eyes  turn  to 
the  right  or  left,  or  all  the  fingers  of  the  hand  open  or  shut,  hy  one  im- 
pulse.] 


68 


ATTENTION. 


whicli  is  obvious  almost  to  sense ; sucli  as,  tbat  any  two  sides 
of  a triangle  are  greater  than  the  third  side  ; or  that  one  circle 
cannot  cut  another  circle  in  more  than  two  points ; but  to  some 
propositions  with  respect  to  quantity,  considered  abstractly,  (to 
some,  for  example,  in  the  fifth  book  of  Euclid,)  which  almost 
every  student  would  be  ready  to  admit  without  a demonstration. 
These  propositions,  however,  do  by  no  means  belong  to  the  class 
of  axioms ; for  their  evidence  does  not  strike  every  person 
equally,  but  requires  a certain  degree  of  quickness  to  perceive 
it.  At  the  same  time,  it  frequently  happens,  that  although  we 
are  convinced  the  proposition  is  true,  we  cannot  state  immedi- 
ately to  others  upon  what  our  conviction  is  founded.  In  such 
cases,  I think  it  highly  probable,  that  before  we  give  our  assent 
to  the  theorem,  a process  of  thought  has  passed  through  the  mind, 
but  has  passed  through  it  so  quickly,  that  we  cannot,  without  dif- 
ficulty, arrest  our  ideas  in  their  rapid  succession,  and  state  them 
to  others  in  their  proper  and  logical  order.  It  is  some  confirma- 
tion of  this  theory,  that  there  are  no  propositions  of  which  it  is 
more  difficult  to  give  a legitimate  proof  from  first  principles, 
than  of  those  which  are  only  removed  a few  steps  from  the  class 
of  axioms ; and  that  those  men  who  are  the  most  remai’kable 
for  their  quick  perception  of  mathematical  truth,  are  seldom 
clear  and  methodical  in  communicating  their  knowledge  to 
others.  A man  of  a moderate  degree  of  quickness,  the  very 
first  time  he  is  made  acquainted  with  the  fundamental  principles 
of  the  method  of  fluxions,  or  of  the  method  of  prime  and  ulti- 
mate ratios,  is  almost  instantaneously  satisfied  of  their  truth ; 
yet  how  difficult  is  it  to  demonstrate  these  principles  rigor- 
ously ! 

What  I have  now  said  with  respect  to  mathematics,  niay  be 
applied  in  a great  measure  to  the  other  branches  of  knowledge. 
How  many  questions  daily  occur  to  us,  in  morals,  in  politics,  and 
in  common  life  ; in  considering  which  we  almost  instantaneously 
see  where  the  truth  lies,  although  we  are  not  in  a condition,  all 
at  once,  to  explain  the  grounds  of  pur  conviction  ! Indeed,  I 
apprehend,  there  are  few,  even  among  those  who  have  devoted 
themselves  to  study,  but  win  have  not  been  habituated  to  com- 


ATTENTION. 


69 


municate  their  knowledge  to  others,  who  are  able  to  exhibit,  in 
their  natural  order,  the  different  steps  of  any  investigation  by 
which  they  have  been  led  to  foim  a particular  conclusion.  The 
common  observation,  therefore,  that  an  obscure  elocution  always 
indicates  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  subject;  although  it 
may  perhaps  be  true  with  respect  to  men  who  have  cultivated 
the  art  of  speaking,  is  by  no  means  to  be  relied  on  as  a general 
rule,  in  judging  of  the  talents  of  those  whose  speculations  have 
. been  carried  on  with  a view  merely  to  their  own  private  satis- 
faction. 

In  the  course  of  my  own  experience,  I have  heard  of  more 
than  one  instance,  of  men  who,  without  any  mathematical  edu- 
cation, were  able,  on  a little  reflection,  to  give  a solution  of  any 
simple  algebraical  problem ; and  who,  at  the  same  time,  were 
perfectly  incapable  of  explaining  by  what  steps  they  obtained 
the  result.*  In  these  cases,  we  have  a du-ect  proof  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  investigating  even  truths  which  are  pretty  remote,  by 
an  intellectual  process  which,  as  soon  as  it  is  finished,  vanished 
almost  entirely  from  the  memory.  It  is  probable,  that  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind  takes  place  much  more  frequently  in  the 
other  branches  of  knowledge,  in  which  our  reasonings  consist 
commonly  but  of  a few  steps.  Indeed,  I am  inclined  to  think, 
that  it  is  in  this  way  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  our  specula- 
tive conclusions  are  formed. 

There  is  no  talent,  I apprehend,  so  essential  to  a public 
speaker,  as  to  be  able  to  state  clearly  every  different  step  of 
those  trains  of  thought  by  which  he  himself  was  led  to  the  con- 
clusions he  wishes  to  establish.  Much  may  be  here  done  by 
study  and  experience.  Even  in  those  cases  in  which  the  truth 
of  a proposition  seems  to  strike  us  instantaneously,  although  we 
may  not  be  able,  at  first,  to  discover  the  media  of  proof,  we  sel- 
dom fail  in  the  discovery  by  perseverance.  Nothing  contributes 
so  much  to  form  this  talent  as  the  study  of  metaphysics ; not 


* [Prodigies  of  arithmetical  ability,  like  Buxton  and  Zerah  Colburn, 
have  usually  been  found  incapable  of  explaining  the  processes  by  which 
they  performed  their  computations  with  such  marvellous  quickness.] 


70 


ATTENTION. 


the  absurd  metaphysics  of  the  schools,  but  tliat  study  which  has 
the  operations  of  the  mind  for  its  object.  By  habituating  us  to 
reflect  on  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  it  enables  us  to  re- 
tard, in  a considerable  degree,  the  current  of  thought ; to  arrest 
many  of  those  ideas,  which  would  otherwise  escape  our  notice  ; 
and  to  render  the  arguments  which  we  employ  for  the  convic- 
tion of  others,  an  exact  transcript  of  those  trains  of  inquiry  and 
reasoning,  which  originally  led  us  to  form  our  opinions. 

These  observations  lead  me  to  take  notice  of  an  important 
distinction  between  the  intellectual  habits  of  men  of  speculation 
and  of  action.  The  latter,  who  are  under  a necessity  of 
thinking  and  deciding  on  the  spur  of  the  occasion,  are  led  to 
cultivate,  as  much  as  possible,  a quickness  in  their  mental  opera- 
tions ; and  sometimes  acquire  it  in  so  great  a degree,  that  their 
judgment  seems  to  be  almost  intuitive.  To  those,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  have  not  merely  to  form  opinions  for  themselves,  but 
to  communicate  them  to  others,  it  is  necessary  to  retard  the 
train  of  thought  as  it  passes  in  the  mind,  so  as  to  be  able  after- 
wards to  recollect  every  different  step  of  the  process  ; a habit 
which,  in  some  cases,  has  such  an  influence  on  the  intellectual 
powers,  that  there  are  men  who,  even  in  their  private  specula- 
tions, not  only  make  use  of  words  as  an  instrument  of  thought, 
but  form  these  words  into  regular  sentences. 

Contributions  of  philology  to  philosophy.  — It  may  perhaps 
appear,  at  first,  a paradoxical  observation,  that  one  great  em- 
ployment of  philosophers,  in  a refined  age,  is  to  bring  to  light 
and  arrange  those  rapid  and  confused  trains  of  thought,  which 
appear,  from  the  structure  of  languages  and  from  the  monu- 
ments of  ancient  laws  and  governments,  to  have  passed  through 
the  minds  of  men  in  the  most  remote  and  unenlightened  periods. 
In  proof,  however,  of  this,  it  is  sufficient  to  mention  the  sys- 
tematical analogy  which  we  find,  to  a certain  degree,  running 
through  the  structure  of  the  most  imperfect  tongues,  (for  exam- 
ple, in  the  formation  of  the  different  parts  of  the  verbs,)  and 
those  general  principles  which  the  philosophical  lawyer  traces 
amidst  an  apparent  chaos  of  precedents  and  statutes.  In  the 
language,  too,  of  the  rudest  tribe,  we  find  words  transferred  from 


ATTENTION. 


71 


one  subject' to  another,  which  indicate,  in  the  mind  of  the  indi- 
yidual  who  first,  made  the  transference,  some  perception  of  re- 
semblance or  of  analogy.  Such  transferences  can  hardly  be 
ascribed  to  accident,  but  may  be  considered  as  proofs  that  the 
analogies,  which  the  philosopher  afterwards  points  out  between 
the  objects  which  are  distinguished  by  the  same  name,  had  been 
perceived  by  the  inventors  of  language,  although  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  they  never  expressed  them  in  words,  nor  could 
even  have  explained  them  if  they  had  been  questioned  on  the 
subject. 

Nor  will  this  appear  a bold  or  incredible  supposition,  if  we 
reflect  on  the  sagacity  and  ingenuity  which  savages,  and  even 
peasants,  discover,  in  overcoming  the  difficulties  which  occur  in 
their  situation.  They  do  not,  indeed,  engage  in  long  processes 
of  abstract  reasoning,  for  which  they  have  no  inclination,  and 
which  it  is  impossible  to  carry  on  without  the  use  of  a cultivated 
and  a copious  language;  but  when  pressed  by  present  circum- 
stances, they  combine  means  to  accomplish  particular  ends,  in  a 
manner  which  indicates  the  exercise  both  of  invention  and  of 
reasoning.  It  is  probable  that  such  processes  are  carried  on  in 
their  minds,  with  much  less  assistance  from  language,  than  a 
philosopher  would  derive  on  a similar  occasion ; and  it  is  almost 
certain,  that  they  would  find  themselves  perfectly  incapable  of 
communicating  to  others  the  steps  by  which  they  were  led  to 
their  conclusions.  In  consequence  of  these  circumstances,  the 
attainments  of  the  human  mind,  in  its  ruder  state,  perish  with 
the  individual,  without  being  recorded  in  writing,  or  perhaps 
expressed  in  words ; and  we  are  left  to  infer  them  indirectly 
from  the  structure  of  language,  or  from  the  monuments  of  an- 
cient customs  and  institutions. 

JF/ia(  trains  of  thought  are  most  dijfcult  to  he  remembered.  — 
Whe'n  a train  of  thought  leads  to  any  interesting  conclusion,  or 
excites  any  pleasant  feeling,  it  becomes  peculiarly  difficult  to  ar- 
rest our  fleeting  ideas  ; because  the  mind,  when  once  it  has  felt 
the  pleasure,  has  little  inclination  to  retrace  the  steps  by  which 
it  arrived  at  it.  This  is  one  great  cause  of  the  difficulty  attending 
philosophical  criticism.  When  a critic  explains  to  us  why  we 


72 


ATTENTION. 


are  pleased  with  any  particular  beauty,  or  offended  with  any 
defect,  it  is  evident,  that  if  his  theory  be  just,  the  circumstances 
which  he  points  out  as  the  foundation  of  our  pleasure  or  uneasi- 
ness, must  have  occurred  to  our  minds  before  we  were  pleased 
with  the  beauty,  or  offended  with  the  defect.  In  such  cases,  it 
sometimes  happens,  when  a critic  has  been  fortunate  in  his  the- 
ory, that  we  recognize  at  first  sight  our  old  ideas,  and  without 
any  further  consideration,  are  ready  to  bear  testimony  to  the 
truth,  from  our  own  consciousness.  So  very  difficult,  however, 
is  it  to  attend  to  the  ideas  which  excite  such  feelings,  that  it 
often  appears  to  be  doubtful,  whether  a theory  be  right  or 
wrong ; and  that  where  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  pleasure  is  produced  in  all  men  in  the  same  way,  different 
critics  adopt  different  theories  with  respect  to  its  cause.  It  is 
long  practice  alone,  joined  to  what  is  commonly  called  a meta- 
physical turn  of  mind,  (by  which,  I think,  is  chiefly  to  be  under- 
stood a capacity  of  reflecting  on  the  subjects  of  our  conscious- 
ness,) that  can  render  such  efforts  of  attention  easy.  Exquisite 
sensibility,  so  far  from  being  useful  in  this  species  of  criticism, 
both  gives  a disrelish  for  the  study,  and  disqualifies  for  pursu- 
ing it. 

Inability  to  attend  to  more  than  one  thing  at  once.  — Before 
we  leave  the  subject  of  attention,  it  is  proper  to  take  notice  of  a 
question  which  has  been  stated  with  respect  to  it ; whether  we 
have  the  power  of  attending  to  more  than  one  thing  at  one  and 
the  same  instant ; or,  in  other  words,  whether  we  can  attend  at 
one  and  the  same  instant  to  objects  which  we  can  attend  to  sep- 
arately ? This  question,  has,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  been  already 
decided  by  several  philosophers  in  the  negative ; and  I ac- 
knowledge for  my  own  part,  that  although  their  opinion  has  not 
only  been  called  in  question  by  others,  but  even  treated  with 
some  degree  of  contempt  as  altogether  hypothetical,  it  appears 
to  me  to  be  the  most  reasonable  and  philosophical  that  we  can 
form  on  the  subject. 

There  is,  indeed,  a great  variety  of  cases,  in  which  the  mind 
apparently  exerts  different  acts  of  attention  at  once  ; but  from 
the  instances  which  have  already  been  mentioned,  of  the  aston- 


ATTENTION. 


73 


ishing  rapidity  of  thought,  it  is  obvious,  that  all  this  may  be  ex- 
plained without  supposing  these  acts  to  be  coexistent ; and  I 
may  even  venture  to  add,  it  may  all  be  explained  in  the  most 
satisfactory  manner,  without  ascribing  to  our  intellectual  opera- 
tions a greater  degree  of  rapidity  than  that  with  which  we  know, 
from  the  fact,  that  they  are  sometimes  carried  on.  The  effect 
of  practice,  in  increasing  this  capacity  of  apparently  attending  to 
different  things  at  once,  renders  this  explanation  of  the  phenom- 
enon ill  question  more  probable  than  any  other. 

The  case  of  the  equilibrist  and  rope-dancer,  ah-eady  mentioned, 
is  particularly  favorable  to  this  explanation  ; as  it  affords  direct 
evidence  of  the  possibility  of  the  mind’s  exerting  different  suc- 
cessive acts  in  an  interval  of  time  so  short,  as  to  produce  the 
same  sensible  effect  as  if  they  had  been  exerted  at  one  and  the 
same  moment.  In  this  case,  indeed,  the  rapidity  of  thought  is 
so  remarkable,  that  if  the  different  acts  of  the  mind  were  not  all 
necessarily  accompanied  with  different  movements  of  the  eye, 
there  can  be  no  reason  for  doubting  that  the  philosophers,  whose 
doctrine  I am  now  controverting,  would  have  asserted,  that  they 
are  all  mathematically  coexistent. 

Upon  a question,  however,  of  this  sort,  which  does  not  admit 
of  a perfectly  direct  appeal  to  the  fact,  I would  by  no  means  be 
understood  to  decide  with  confidence ; and  therefore  I should 
wish  the  conclusions  I am  now  to  state,  to  be  received  as  only 
conditionally  established.  They  are  necessary  and  obvious  con- 
sequences of  the  general  principle,  “ that  the  mind  can  only  at- 
tend to  one  thing  at  once ; ” but  must  stand  or  fall  with  the 
truth  of  that  supposition. 

Illustrations  of  this  doctrine.  — It  is  commonly  understood,  I 
believe,  that,  in  a concert  of  music,  a good  ear  can  attend  to  the 
different  parts  of  the  music  separately,  or  can  attend  to  them  all 
at  once,  and  feel  the  full  effect  of  the  harmony.  If  the  doctrine, 
however,  which  I have  endeavored  to  establish,  be  admitted,  it 
will  follow,  that  in  the  latter  case,  the  mind  is  constantly  vary- 
ing its  attention  from  the  one  part  of  the  music  to  the  other,  and 
that  its  operations  are  so  rapid  as  to  give  us  no  perception  of 
an  interval  of  time. 


7 


74 


ATTENTION. 


The  .same  doctrine  leads  to  some  cur  . j conclusions  with  re- 
spect to  vision.  Suppose  the  eye  to  be  fixed  in  a particular 
jiosition,  and  the  picture  of  an  object  to  be  painted  on  the  retina. 
Does  the  mind  pei’ceive  the  complete  figure  of  the  object  at 
once,  or  is  this  perception  the  result  of  the  various  perceptions 
we  have  of  the  different  points  in  the  outline  ? With  respect 
to  this  question,  the  principles  already  stated  lead  me  to  con- 
clude, that  the  mind  does,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  perceive 
every  point  in  the  outline  of  the  object,  (provided  the  whole  of 
it  be  painted  on  the  retina  at  the  same  instant ;)  for  perception, 
like  consciousness,  is  an  involuntary  operation.  As  no  two 
points,  however,  of  the  outline  are  in  the  same  direction,  every 
point,  by  itself,  constitutes  just  as  distinct  an  object  of  attention 
to  the  mind,  as  if  it  were  separated  by  an  interval  of  empty 
space  from  all  the  rest.  K the  doctrine,  therefore,  formerly 
stated  be  just,  it  is  impossible  for  the  mind  to  attend  to  more 
than  one  of  these  points  at  once ; and  as  the  perception  of  the 
figure  of  the  object  implies  a knowledge  of  the  relative  situa- 
tion of  the  different  points  with  respect  to  each  other,  we  must 
conclude  that  the  perception  of  figure  by  the  eye  is  the  result 
of  a number  of  different  acts  of  attention.  These  acts  of  atten- 
tion, however,  are  performed  with  such  rapidity,  that  the  effect, 
with  respect  to  us,  is  the  same  as  if  the  perception  were  instan- 
taneous. 

In  further  confirmation  of  this  reasoning,  it  may  be  remarked, 
that  if  the  perception  of  visible  figure  were  an  immediate  con- 
sequence of  the  picture  on  the  retina,  we  should  have,  at  the 
first  glance,  as  distinct  an  idea  of  a figure  of  a thousand  sides, 
as  of  a triangle  or  a square.  The  truth  is,  that  when  the  figure 
is  very  simple,  the  process  of  the  mind  is  so  rapid,  that  the  per- 
ception seems  to  be  instantaneous  ; but  when  the  sides  are  mul- 
tiplied beyond  a certain  numbei’,  the  interval  of  time  necessary 
for  these  different  acts  of  attention  becomes  perceptible. 

It  may  perhaps  be  asked,  what  I mean  by  a point  in  the  out- 
line of  a figure,  and  what  it  is  that  constitutes  this  point  one  ob- 
ject of  attention?  The  answer,  I apprehend,  is,  that  this  point 


ATTENTION. 


75 


is  the  minimum  visihile.  If  the  point  be  less,  we  cannot  per- 
ceive it ; if  it  he  greater,  it  is  not  all  seen  in  one  direction. 

If  these  observations  he  admitted,  it  will  follow,  that,  without 
the  faculty  of  memory,  we  could  have  had  no  perception  of  vis- 
ible figure.* 


* I have  been  accused  of  overlooking,  in  the  preceding  Chapter,  a very- 
important  distinction  between  Voluntary  and  Involuntary  attention.  In 
some  cases,  (it  is  said,)  attention  attaches  itself  spontaneously  to  its  object. 
In  others,  it  requires  a painful  effort  to  keep  it  steady,  — nay,  when  we  will 
to  iix  it  on  one  subject,  we  find  it  perpetually  wandering  to  another.  The 
fact  on  which  the  criticism  is  founded  must  unquestionably  be  admitted, 
but  the  conclusion  dra^vn  from  it  is  nevertheless  eiToneous.  It  proceeds 
on  a vague  use  of  the  words  voluntary  and  involuntary.  These  words,  as 
well  as  the  substantive  will,  are  often,  but  very  inaccurately,  employed  to 
express  a general  purpose  or  intention,  as  well  as  that  state  of  mind  which  is 
the  immediate  antecedent  of  action.  Thus,  if  I resolve  to  keep  my  eyes 
steadily  open,  I may,  according  to  common  modes  of  speech,  be  said  to 
will  to  keep  them  open,  and  if  in  consequence  of  some  sudden  alarm,  I 
should  depart  from  my  purpose,  the  tvinking  of  my  eyelids  may  he  said  to 
be  involuntary.  And  yet,  in  strict  philosophical  propriety,  the  winking  of 
my  eyelids  is  an  act  purely  voluntary ; an  operation  which  I will  to  per- 
form, in  consequence  of  the  effect  which  my  alarm  has  to  banish  my  gen- 
eral purpose  or  resolution  from  my  mind.  The  case  is  perfectly  parallel 
with  respect  to  attention.  TThen  I am  anxious  to  attend  to  a particular 
subject,  I am  apt  to  say  that  I will  to  attend  to  it,  and  when  I forget  my 
purpose,  that  my  inattention  is  involuntary ; whereas  the  fact  is,  that  the 
unintended  distraction,  like  the  unintended  winking  of  the  eyelids,  was  the 
effect  of  a particular  volition  of  the  mind,  exerted  in  consequence  of  a mo- 
mentary forgetfulness  of  my  general  purpose.  Indeed,  to  those  who  are  at 
all  accustomed  to  precision  in  the  use  of  language,  the  phrase  involuntary 
attention  must  appear  a manifest  contradiction  in  terms. 

[Stewart  is  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  winking  of  the  eyelids  is 
always,  or  even  generally,  a voluntary  act.  Physiologists  are  now  agreed 
that,  most  frequently,  it  is  as  involuntary  as  sneezing,  or  coughing  from 
irritation  of  the  larynx.  Kecent  discoveries  have  established  the  existence 
of  what  is  called  the  reflex  action  of  the  nerves,  by  which,  without  any  sen- 
sation being  communicated  to  the  brain,  and  consequently  without  any  ef- 
fort of  the  will,  an  impression  made  upon  the  end  of  a nerve  is  transmitted 
to  the  spinal  cord,  and  thence  sent  back  again,  as  it  were,  along  one  of  the 
motor  nerves  to  its  extremity,  producing  there  a contraction  of  the  nerves 
and  the  requisite  movement  of  the  limb  or  organ.  Isolate  this  pair  of 
nerves  entirely,  by  cutting  off  its  communication,  not  only  with  the  head. 


7G 


CONCEPTION. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OE  CONCEPTION. 

Office  of  Conception.  — By  conception,  I mean  that  power 
of  the  mind,  which  enables  it  to  form  a notion  of  an  absent  ob- 
ject of  perception  ; or  of  a sensation  which  it  has  formerly  felt. 
I do  not  contend  that  this  is  exclusively  the  proper  meaning  of 
the  word,  but  I think  that  the  faculty  which  I have  now  defined, 
deserves  to  be  distinguished  by  an  appropriated  mame. 

Conception  is  often  confounded  with  other  powers.  When  a 
painter  makes  a picture  of  a friend,  who  is  absent  or  dead, 
he  is  commonly  said  to  paint  from  memory ; and  the  expres- 
sion is  sufiiciently  correct  for  common  conversation.  But  in  an 
analysis  of  the  mind,  there  is  ground  for  a distinction.  The 
power  of  conception  enables  him  to  make  the  features  of  his 
friend  an  object  of  thought,  so  as  to  copy  the  resemblance;  the 
power  of  memory  recognizes  these  features  as  a former  object 
of  perception.  Every  act  of  memory  includes  an  idea  of  the 
past ; conception  implies  no  idea  of  time  whatever.* * 

According  to  this  view  of  the  matter,  the  word  conception  cor- 
responds to  what  was  called  by  the  schoolmen  simple  apprehen- 
sion ; with  this  difference  only,  that  they  included,  under  this 
name,  our  apprehension  of  general  propositions ; whereas  I 


but  with  the  upper  and  lower  portions  of  the  spinal  column,  reserving  only 
a segment  of  this  column  to  connect  the  excitor  with  the  motor  nerve,  and 
the  reflex  movement  may  stiU  be  produced.  Thus,  when  the  mucous 
membrane  of  the  nose  is  irritated,  sneezing  follows  in  spite  of  any  effort 
of  the  will  to  prevent  it.  Winking  takes  place  involuntarily,  whenever  an 
object  comes  suddenly  near  or  before  the  eyes,  or  when  water  needs  to  be 
carried  off  through  the  tear  passage.] 

* Shakspeare  calls  tliis  power  “ the  mind’s  eye.” 

Hamlet.  — “ My  father  ! Methinks  I see  my  father. 

Horatio.  — “ Where,  my  Lord 

Hamlet.  — “In  my  mind’s  eye,  Horatio.”  — Act  i.  Scene  4. 


CONCEPTION. 


77 


should  wish  to  limit  the  application  of  the  word  conception  to 
our  sensations,  and  the  objects  of  our  perceptions.  Dr.  Reid, 
in  his  Inquiry,  substitutes  the  word  conception  instead  of  the 
simple  apprehension  of  the  schools,  and  employs  it  in  the  same 
extensive  signification.  I think  it  may  contribute  to  make  our 
ideas  more  distinct,  to  restrict  its  meaning : — and  for  such  a 
restriction,  we  have  the  authority  of  philosophers  in  a case  per- 
fectly analogous.  In  ordinary  language,  we  apply  the  same 
word,  perception,  to  the  knowledge  which  we  have  by  our  senses 
of  external  object's,  and  to  our  knowledge  of  speculative  truth : 
and  yet  an  author  would  be  justly  censured,  who  should  treat 
of  these  two  operations  of  the  mind  under  the  same  article  of 
perception.  I apprehend  there  is  as  wide  a difference  between 
the  conception  of  a truth,  and  the  conception  of  an  absent  object 
of  sense,  as  between  the  perception  of  a tree,  and  the  perception 
of  a mathematical  theorem.  I have  therefore  taken  the  liberty 
to  distinguish  also  the  two  former  operations  of  the  mind ; and 
under  the  article  of  conception,  shall  confine  myself  to  that  fac- 
ulty whose  province  it  is  to  enable  us  to  form  a notion  of  our 
past  sensations,  or  of  the  objects  of  sense  that  we  have  formerly 
perceived* 


* [Stewart,  who  is  a strict  Nominalist,  maintains  that  we  can  form  a 
conception  only  of  an  individual  object  that  can  be  perceived  by  the  senses, 
— as  of  a particular  house  or  tree.  Reid  and  all  other  metaphysicians,  ex- 
cept the  Nominalists,  maintain  that  we  may  have  conceptions  also  of  what 
abstract  and  general  terms  stand  for ; that  is,  they  say  we  can  apprehend 
the  meaning  of  such  words  as  wisdom,  viitue,  courage,  etc.,  and  also  of  trian- 
gle, man,  tiger,  — understanding  thereby,  not  any  particular  triangle,  or 
man,  but  the  general  idea  answering  to  any  or  all  triangles,  any  or  all  men, 
etc.  If  we  did  not  apprehend  their  meaning,  we  could  not  argue  about 
them,  or  use  their  names  intelligibly.  But  the  doctrine  of  the  Nominalists 
is,  that  when  we  use  these  abstract,  general  terms,  the  mere  words  are  our 
only  objects  of  thought,  and  that  we  limit  and  fix  the  meaning  of  those 
words  by  calling  up,  when  necessary,  the  image  or  conception  of  a partic- 
ular thing  comprehended  under  them.  If  I speak  of  a triangle  in  general, 
and  wish  to  have  something  more  definite  before  the  mind  than  the  mere 
word  “ triangle,”  they  say  that  I call  up  the  image  of  some  particular  tri- 
angle, and  limit  my  attention,  in  considering  it,  to  those  quahties  which  it 
possesses  in  common  with  all  triangles.  According  to  the  Nominalists, 

1* 


r 


78  CONCEPTION. 

Conception  distinguished  from  Imagination.  — Conception  is 
frequently  used  as  synonymous  with  imagination.  Dr.  Reid 
says,  that  “ imagination,  in  its  proper  sense,  signifies  a lively 
conception  of  objects  of  sight.”  “ This  is  a talent,”  he  remarks, 
“ of  imjDortance  to  poets  and  orators ; and  deserves  a proper 
name,  on  account  of  its  connection  with  their  arts.”  He  adds, 
that  “imagination  is  distinguished  from  conception  as  a part 
from  the  whole.” 

I shall  not  inquire  at  present  into  the  proper  English  mean- 
ing of  the  words  conception  and  imagination.  In  a study  such 
as  this,  so  far  removed  from  common  purposes  of  speech,  some 
latitude  may  perhaps  he  allowed  in  the  use  of  words  ; provided 
only  we  define  accurately  those  we  employ,  and  adhere  to  our 
own  definitions. 

The  business  of  conception,  according  to  the  account  I have 
given  of  it,  is  to  present  us  with  an  exact  transcript  of  what  we 
have  felt  or  perceived.  But  we  have,  moreover,  a power  of 
modifying  our  conceptions,  by  combining  the  parts  of  different 
ones  together,  so  as  to  form  new  wholes  of  our  own  creation. 
I shall  employ  the  word  imagination  to  express,  this  power ; 
and,  I apprehend,  that  this  is  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  if 
imagination  be  the  power  which  gives  birth  to  the  productions 
of  the  poet  and  the  painter.  This  is  not  a simple  faculty  of  the 
mind.  It  presupposes  abstraction.,  to  separate  from  each  other 
qualities  and  circumstances  which  have  been  perceived  in  con- 
junction ; and  also  judgment  and  taste,  to  direct  us  in  forming 
the  combinations.  If  they  are  made  wholly  at  random,  they 
are  proofs  of  insanity.* 

then,  the  only  objects  of  thought  are  (1.)  mere  words,  and  (2.)  the  concep- 
tions of  particular,  material  objects,  such  as  can  be  imaged  or  pictured  forth 
in  the  flincy.  Reid  and  the  Conccptualists  maintain,  that  there  are  also 
(3.)  conceptions  of  abstract  and  general  things,  — conceptions  which  are 
more  definite  than  mere  words,  but  less  definite  than  images  or  pictures 
of  particular  objects. 

But  these  differences  of  opinion  between  the  Nominalists,  Realists,  and 
Conceptualists,  will  be  explained  more  fully  hereafter.] 

* In  common  discourse,  we  often  use  the  phrase  of  ildnking  upon  an  object, 
to  express  what  I here  call  the  conception  of  it.  In  the  following  passage 


CONCEPTION. 


79 


Some  objects  ( re  conceived  more  easily  than  others.  — The  first 
remarkable  fad  which  strikes  us  with  respect  to  conception  is, 
that  we  can  conceive  the  objects  of  some  senses  much  more 
easily  than  those  of  others.  Thus  we  can  conceive  an  absent 
visible  object,  such  as  a building  that  is  familiar  to  us,  much 
more  easily  than  a particular  sound,  a particular  taste,  or  a par- 
ticular pain,  which  we  have  formerly  felt.  It  is  probable,  how- 
ever, that  this  power  might  be  improved  in  the  case  of  some  of  our 
senses.  Few  people,  I believe,  are  able  to  form  a very  distinct 
conception  of  sounds  ; and  yet  it  is  certain,  that  by  practice,  a 
person  may  acquire  a power  of  amusing  himself  with  reading 
written  music.  And  in  the  case  of  poetical  numbers,  it  is  uni- 
versally known,  that  a reader  may  enjoy  the  harmony  of  the 
verse,  without  articulating  the  words,  even  in  a whisper.  In 
such  cases,  I take  for  granted,  that  our  pleasure  arises  from  a 
very  strong  conception  of  the  sounds  which  we  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  associate  with  particular  written  characters. 

Why  visible  objects  are  easily  conceived.  The  peculiarity  in 
the  case  of  visible  objects,  seems  to  arise  from  this ; that  when 
we  think  of  a sound  or  of  a taste,  the  object  of  our  conception 
is  one  single  detached  sensation  ; whereas  every  visible  object  is 
complex  ; and  the  conception  which  we  form  of  it  as  a whole 
is  aided  by  the  Association  of  Ideas.  To  perceive  the  force  of 
this  observation,  it  is  necessary  to  recollect  what  was  formerly 
said  on  the  subject  of  attention.  As  we  cannot  at  one  instant 
attend  to  every  point  of  the  picture  of  an  object  on  the  retina. 


Shakspeare  uses  the  former  of  these  phrases,  and  the  words  imagination 
and  apprehension  as  synonymous  with  each  other. 

Wlro  can  hold  a fire  in  his  hand, 

By  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus  1 
Or  cloy  the  hungry  edge  of  appetite, 

By  bare  imagination  of  a feast  ? 

Or  wallow  naked  in  December’s  snow, 

By  thinking  on  fantastic  summer’s  heat  ? 

Oh  no  ! the  apprehension  of  the  good 
Gives  but  the  greater  feeling  to  the  worse. 

K.  Kichaed  II.  Act  I Scene  6. 


80 


CONCEPTION. 


SO,  I apprehend,  we  cannot  at  one  instant  form  a conception  of 
the  whole  of  any  visible  object ; but  that  our  conception  of 
the  object  as  a whole,  is  the  result  of  many  conceptions.  The 
association  of  ideas  connects  the  different  parts  together,  and 
presents  them  to  the  mind  in  their  proper  arrangement;  and 
the  various  relations  which  these  parts  bear  to  one  another  in 
point  of  situation,  contribute  greatly  to  strengthen  the  associa- 
tions. It  is  some  confirmation  of  this  theory,  that  it  is  more 
easy  to  remember  a succession  of  sounds,  than  any  particular 
sound,  which  we  have  heard  detached  and  unconnected. 

The  power  of  conceiving  visible  objects,  like  all  other  powers 
that  depend  on  the  association  of  ideas,  may  be  wonderfully 
improved  by  liahit.  A person  accustomed  to  drawing  retains 
a much  more  perfect  notion  of  a building  or  of  a landscape 
which  he  has  seen,  than  one  who  has  never  practised  that  art. 
A portrait  painter  traces  the  form  of  the  human  body  from 
memory,  with  as  little  exertion  of  attention,  as  he  employs  in 
writing  the  letters  which  compose  his  name. 

In  the  power  of  conceiving  colors,  too,  there  are  striking  dif- 
ferences among  individuals ; and,  indeed,  I am  inclined  to  sus- 
pect, that,  in  the  greater  number  of  instances,  the  supposed 
defects  of  sight  in  this  respect  ought  to  be  ascribed  rather  to  a 
defect  in  the  power  of  conception.  One  thing  is  certain,  that 
we  often  see  men  who  are  perfectly  sensible  of  the  difference 
between  two  colors  when  they  are  presented  to  them,  who  can- 
not give  names  to  these  colors,  with  confidence,  when  they  see 
them  apart ; and  are  perhaps  apt  to  confound  the  one  with  the 
other.  Such  men,  it  should  seem,  feel  the  sensation,  of  color 
like  other  men,  when  the  object  is  present,  but  are  incapable 
(probably  in  consequence  of  some  early  habit  of  inattention)  to 
conceive  the  sensation  distinctly  when  the  object  is  removed. 
Without  this  power  of  conception,  it  is  evidently  impossible  for 
them,  however  lively  their  sensations  may  be,  to  give  a name 
to  any  color  ; for  tlie  application  of  the  name  supposes  not  only 
a capacity  of  receiving  the  sensation,  but  a power  of  comparing 
it  with  one  formerly  felt.  At  the  same  time,  I would  not  be 
understood  by  these  observations  to  deny,  that  there  are  cases, 


CONCEPTION. 


81 


in  whicli  there  is  a natural  defect  of  the  organ  in  the  perception 
of  color.  In  some  cases,  perhaps,  the  sensation  is  not  felt  at  all ; 
and  in  others,  the  faintness  of  the  sensation  may  he  one  cause 
of  those  habits  of  inattention,  from  which  the  incapacity  of  con 
ception  has  arisen. 

Wka(  uses  the  power  of  conception  is  subservient  to.  — A 
talent  for  lively  description,  at  least  in  the  case  of  sensible  ob- 
jects, depends  chiefly  on  the  degree  in  which  the  describer 
possesses  the  power  of  conception.  We  may  remark,  even  in 
common  conversation,  a striking  difference  among  individuals 
in  this  respect.  One  man,  in  attempting  to  convey  a notion  of 
any  object  he  has  seen,  seems  to  place  it  before  him,  and  to 
paint  from  actual  perception : another,  although  not  deflcient  in 
a ready  elocution,  finds  himself,  in  such  a situation,  confused  and 
embarrassed  among  a number  of  particulars  imperfectly  appre- 
hended, which  crowd  into  his  mind  without  any  just  order  and 
connection.  Nor  is  it  merely  to  the  accuracy  of  our  descrip- 
tions that  this  power  is  subservient : it  contributes  more  than 
any  thing  else  to  render  them  striking  and  expressive  to  others, 
by  guiding  us  to  a selection  of  such  circumstances  as  are  most 
prominent  and  characteristical ; insomuch  that  I think  it  may 
reasonably  be  doubted,  if  a person  would  not  write  a happier 
description  of  an  object  from  the  conception  than  from  the  actual 
perception  of  it.  It  has  been  often  remarked,  that  the  perfection 
of  description  does  not  consist  in  a minute  specification  of  circum- 
stances, but  in  a judicious  selection  of  them  ; and  that  the  best 
rule  for  making  the  selection  is  to  attend  to  the  particulars  that 
make  the  deepest  impi-ession  on  our  own  minds.  When  the  ob- 
ject is  actually  before  us,  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  compare  the 
impressions  which  different  circumstances  produce  ; and  the  very 
thought  of  writing  a description,  would  prevent  the  impressions 
which  would  otherwise  take  place.  When  we  afterwards  con- 
ceive the  object,  the  representation  of  it  we  form  to  ourselves, 
however  lively,  is  merely  an  outline  ; and  is  made  up  of  those 
circumstances,  which  I'eally  struck  us  most  at  the  moment ; 
w'hile  others  of  less  importance  are  obliterated.  The  impression, 
indeed,  which  a circumstance  makes  on  the  mind,  wiU  vary 


82 


CONCEPTION. 


considerably  with  the  degree  of  a person’s  taste ; but  I am 
inclined  to  think,  that  a man  of  lively  conceptions,  who  paints 
from  these,  while  his  mind  is  yet  warm  from  the  original  scene, 
can  hardly  fail  to  succeed  in  descriptive  composition. 

Observations  applicable  both  to  conception  and  imagination. — 
The  facts  and  observations  which  I have  now  mentioned,  are 
applicable  to  conception  as  distinguished  from  imagination. 
The  two  powers,  however,  are  very  nearly  allied ; and  are  fre- 
quently so  blended,  that  it  is  difficult  to  say,  to  which  of  the 
two  some  particular  operations  of  the  mind  are  to  be  referred. 
There  are  also  many  general  facts  which  hold  equally  with 
respect  to  both.  The  observations  which  follow,  if  they  are 
well  founded,  are  of  this  number,  and  might  have  been  intro- 
duced with  equal  2n’opriety  under  either  article.  I mention 
them  here,  as  I shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  them  in  the 
course  of  the  following  work,  in  treating  of  some  subjects, 
which  will  naturally  occur  to  our  examination,  before  we  have 
another  ojqiortunity  of  considering  this  jiart  of  our  constitution. 

On  the  belief  which  attends  the  conception  or  imagination.  — 
It  is  a common,  I believe  I may  say  a universal,  doctrine 
among  logicians,  that  conception  (or  imagination,  which  is  often 
used  as  synonymous  with  it)  is  attended  with  no  belief  of  the 
existence  of  its  object.  “Perception,”  says  Dr.  Reid,  “is 
attended  with  a belief  of  the  qiresent  existence  of  its  object ; 
memory,  with  a belief  of  its  j^ast  existence  ; but  imagination  is 
attended  with  no  belief  at  all ; and  was  therefore  called  by  the 
schoolmen,  apprehensio  simplex^' 

It  is  with  great  diffidence,  that  I presume  to  call  in  question 
a principle,  which  has  been  so  generally  received ; yet  there 
are  several  circumstances  which  lead  me  to  doubt  of  it.  If  it 
were  a specifical  distinction  between  percejition  and  imagina- 
tion, that  the  former  is  always  attended  with  belief,  and  the  lat- 
ter with  none ; then  the  more  lively  our  imagination  were  of 
any  object,  and  the  moi’e  completely  that  object  occupied  the 
attention,  the  less  would  we  be  apt  to  believe  its  existence ; for 
it  is  reasonable  to  think,  that  when  any  of  our  powers  is 
employed  separately  from  the  rest,  and  there  is  nothing  to 


CONCEPTION. 


83 


withdraw  the  attention  from  it,  the  laws  which  regulate  its  ope- 
ration will  he  most  obvious  to  our  observation,  and  will  be 
most  completely  discriminated  from  those  which  are  character- 
istical  of  the  other  powers  of  the  mind.  So  very  different, 
however,  is  the  fact,  that  it  is  matter  of  common  remark,  that 
when  imagination  is  very  lively,  we  are  apt  to  ascribe  to  its 
objects  a real  existence,  as  in  the  case  of  dreaming  or  of  mad- 
ness ; and  we  may  add,  in  the  case  of  those  who,  in  spite  of 
their  own  general  belief  of  the  absurdity  of  the  vulgar  stories 
of  apparitions,  dare  not  trust  themselves  alone  with  their  own 
imaginations  in  the  dark.  That  imagination  is  in  these  in- 
stances  attended  with  belief,  we  have  all  the  evidence  that  the 
nature  of  the  thing  admits  of ; for  we  feel  and  act  in  the  same 
manner  as  we  should  do,  if  we  believed  that  the  objects  of  our 
attention  were  real ; which  is  the  only  proof  that  metaphysi- 
cians produce,  or  can  produce,  of  the  belief  which  accompanies 
perception. 

In  these  cases,  the  fact  that  I wish  to  establish  is  so  striking 
that  it  has  never  been  called  in  question  ; but  in  most  cases,  the 
impression  which  the  objects  of  imagination  make  on  the  mind 
is  so  momentary,  and  is  so  immediately  corrected  by  the  sur- 
rounding objects  of  perception,  that  it  has  not  time  to  influence 
our  conduct.  Hence  we  are  apt  to  conclude,  on  a superficial 
view,  that  imagination  is  attended  with  no  belief ; and  the  con- 
clusion is  surely  just  in  most  cases,  if  by  belief  we  mean  2k  per- 
manent conviction  which  influences  our  conduct.  But  if  the 
word  be  used  in  the  strict  logical  sense,  I am  inclined  to  think, 
after  the  most  careful  attention  to  what  I experience  in  myself, 
that  the  exercise  both  of  conception  and  imagination  is  always 
accompanied  with  a belief  that  their  objects  exist.* 


* One  of  the  arguments  which  I have  stated,  in  opposition  to  the  com- 
mon doctrine  concerning  imagination,  appears  to  me  to  be  authorized,  in 
some  measure,  by  the  following  reasoning  of  Dr.  Reid’s  on  a different  sub- 
ject. In  considering  those  sudden  bursts  of  passion,  which  lead  us  to 
wreak  our  vengeance  upon  inanimate  objects,  he  endeavors  to  show,  that 
we  have,  in  such  cases,  a momentary  belief  that  the  object  is  alive.  “ I 
confess,”  says  he,  “ it  seems  to  be  impossible,  that  there  should  be  resent- 


84 


CONCEPTION. 


"When  a painter  conceives  the  face  and  figure  of  an  absent 
friend,  in  order  to  draw  liis  picture,  he  believes  for  the  moment 
tliat  his  friend  is  before  him.  The  belief,  indeed,  is  only  mo- 
mentary ; for  it  is  extremely  difficult,  in  our  waking  hours,  to 
keep  up  a steady  and  undivided  attention  to  any  object  we  con- 
ceive or  imagine;  and  as  soon  as  the  conception  or  the  imagi- 
nation is  over,  the  belief  which  attended  it  is  at  an  end.  We 
find  that  we  can  recall  and  dismiss  the  objects  of  these  powers  at 
pleasure ; and  therefore  we  learn  to  consider  them  as  creations 
of  the  mind,  which  have  no  separate  and  independent  existence. 

The  compatibility  of  such  a speculative  disbelief,  as  I have 
here  supposed,  of  the  existence  of  an  object,  with  a contrary  mo- 
mentary belief,  may  perhaps  be  more  readily  admitted,  if  the 
following  experiment  be  considered  with  attention. 


ment  against  a thing,  which,  at  that  very  moment,  is  considered  as  inani- 
mate ; and  consequently  incapable  either  of  intending  hurt,  or  of  being 
punished.  There  must,  therefore,  I conceive,  be  some  momentary  notion 
or  conception,  that  tlie  object  of  our  resentment  is  capable  of  punishment.” 

In  another  passage,  tlie  same  autlior  remarks,  that  “ men  may  be  gov- 
erned, in  their  practice,  by  a belief,  which,  in  speculation,  they  reject.” 

“ I knew  a man,”  says  he,  “who  was  as  much  convinced  as  any  man, 
of  the  folly  of  the  popular  belief  of  apparitions  in  • the  dark  ; yet  he  could 
not  sleep  in  a room  alone,  nor  go  alone  into  a room  in  the  dark.  Can  it 
be  said,  that  his  fear  did  not  imply  a belief  of  danger?  This  is  impossi- 
ble. Yet  his  philosophy  convinced  him,  that  he  was  in  no  more  danger 
in  the  dark  when  alone,  than  with  company.  Here  an  unreasonable  belief, 
which  was  merely  a prejudice  of  the  nursery,  stuck  so  fast  as  to  govern  his 
conduct,  in  opposition  to  his  speculative  belief  as  a philosopher  and  a man 
of  sense. 

“ There  are  few  persons  who  can  look  down  from  the  battlement  of  a 
very  high  tower  witi.'out  fear ; while  their  reason  convinces  them,  that  they 
arc  in  no  more  danger  than  when  standing  upon  the  ground.” 

These  facts  are  easily  explicable,  on  the  supposition,  that  whenever  the 
objects  of  imagination  engross  the  attention  wholly,  (which  they  may  do, 
in  opposition  to  any  speculative  opinion  with  respect  to  their  non-exist- 
ence,) th(jy  produce  a temjjorary  belief  of  their  reality.  Indeed,  in  the 
last  passage.  Dr.  Eeid  seems  to  admit  this  to  be  the  case ; for,  to  say  that 
a man  who  has  a dread  of  apparitions,  believes  himself  to  be  in  danger 
when  left  alone  in  the  dark,  is  to  say,  in  other  words,  that  he  believes  (for 
the  time)  that  the  objects  of  his  imagination  arc  real. 


CONCEPTIOK. 


85 


Suppose  a lighted  candle  to  be  so  placed  before  a concave 
mirror,  that  the  image  of  the  flame  may  be  seen  between  the 
mirror  and  the  eye  of  the  observer.  In  this  case,  a person  who 
is  acquainted  with  the  principles  of  optics,  or  who  has  seen  the 
experiment  made  before,  has  so  strong  a speculative  conviction 
)f  the  non-existence  of  the  object  in  that  place  where  he  sees  its 
image,  that  he  would  not  hesitate  to  put  his  finger  to  the  appar- 
ent flame,  without  any  apprehension  of  injury. 

Suppose,  however,  that  in  such  a case  it  were  possible  for  the 
observer  to  banish  completely  from  his  thoughts  all  the  cii’cum- 
stances  of  the  experiment,  and  to  confine  his  attention  wholly 
to  his  perception ; would  he  not  believe  the  image  to  be  a real- 
ity? and  would  he  not  expect  the  same  consequences  from- 
touching  it,  as  from  touching  a real  body  in  a state  of  inflamma- 
tion ? If  these  questions  be  answered  in  the  affirmative,  it  will 
follow ; that  the  effect  of  the  perception,  while  it  engages  the  at- 
tention completely  to  itself,  is  to  produce  belief;  and  that  the 
speculative  disbelief,  according  to  which  our  conduct  in  ordinary 
cases  is  regulated,  is  the  result  of  a recollection  of  the  various 
circumstances  with  which  the  experiment  is  accompanied. 

If,  in  such  a case  as  I have  now  supposed,  the  appearance 
exhibited  to  us  is  of  such  a nature  as  to  threaten  us  with  any 
immediate  danger,  the  efiect  is  the  same  as  if  we  were  to  banish 
from  our  thoughts  the  circumstances  of  the  experiment,  and  to 
limit  our  attention  solely  to  what  we  perceive : for  here  the  be- 
lief, which  is  the  first  effect  of  the  perception,  alarms  our  fears, 
and  influences  our  conduct,  before  reflection  has  time  to  oper- 
ate. In  a very  ingenious  optical  deception,  which  was  lately 
exhibited  in  this  city,  the  image  of  a flower  was  presented  to 
the  spectator ; and  when  he  was  about  to  lay  hold  of  it  with  his 
hand,  a stroke  was  aimed  at  him  by  the  image  of  a dagger.  If 
a person  who  has  seen  this  experiment  is  asked,  in  his  cooler 
moments,  whether  or  not  he  believes  the  dagger  which  he  saw 
to  be  real,  he  will  readily  answer  in  the  negative ; and  yet  the 
accurate  statement  of  the  fact  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  first  and 
the  proper  effect  of  the  perception  is  belief;  and  that  the  disbe- 
lief he  feels  is  the  effect  of  subsequent  reflection. 

8 


86 


CONCEPTION. 


The  specul.ative  disbelief  which  we  feel  with  respect  to  the 
illusions  of  imagination,  I conceive  to  be  analogous  to  our  spec- 
ulative disbelief  of  the  existence  of  the  object  exhibited  to  the 
6}' e in  this  optical  deception ; as  our  belief  that  the  illusions  of 
imagination  are  real,  while  that  faculty  occupied  the  mind  ex- 
clusively, is  analogous  to  the  belief  produced  by  the  optical 
deception  while  the  attention  is  limited  to  our  perception,  and  is 
withdrawn  from  the  circumstances  in  which  the  experiment  is 
made. 

Oji  the  belief  which  attends  'perception.  — These  observations 
lead  me  to  take  notice  of  a circumstance  with  respect  to  the  be- 
lief accompanying  yjercejofiow,  which  it  appears  to  me  necessary 
to  state,  in  order  to  render  Dr.  Reid’s  doctrine  on  that  subject 
completely  satisfactory.  He  has  shown,  that  certain  sensations 
are,  by  a law  of  our  nature,  accomjianied  with  an  irresistible 
belief  of  the  existence  of  certain  qualities  of  external  objects. 

But  this  law  extends  no  further  than  to  the  present  existence 
of  the  quality ; that  is,  to  its  existence  while  we  feel  the  corre- 
sponding sensation.  Whence  is  it  then,  that  we  ascribe  to  the 
quality  an  existence  independent  of  our  perception  ? I appre- 
hend we  learn  to  do  this  by  experience  alone.  We  find  that 
we  cannot,  as  in  the  case  of  imagination,  dismiss  or  recall  the 
perception  of  an  external  object.  If  I open  my  eyes,  I cannot 
prevent  myself  from  seeing  the  prospect  which  is  before  me.  I 
learn,  therefore,  to  ascribe  to  the  objects  of  my  senses,  not  only 
an  existence  at  the  time  I perceive  them,  but  an  independent 
and  a permanent  existence. 

In  sleep  and  madness,  imagination  is  fully  believed.  — It  is  a 
strong  confirmation  of  tliis  doctrine,  that  in  sleep,  when  (as  I 
shall  endeavor  afterwards  to  show)  the  influence  of  the  will 
over  the  train  of  our  thoughts  is  suspended,  and  when,  of  con- 
sequence, the  time  of  their  continuance  in  the  mind  is  not  regu- 
lated by  us,  we  ascribe  to  the  objects  of  imagination  an  inde- 
pendent and  permanent  existence,  as  we  do  when  awake  to  the 
objects  of  perception.  The  same  thing  happens  in  those  kinds  of 
madness,  in  which  a particular  idea  takes  possession  of  the  atten- 
tion, and  occupies  it  to  the  exclusion  of  every  thing  else.  Indeed, 


CONCEPTION. 


87 


madness  seems  in  many  cases  to  arise  entirely  from  a suspension 
of  the  influence  of  the  will  over  the  succession  of  our  thoughts  ; 
in  consequence  of  which,  the  objects  of  imagination  appear  to 
have  an  existence  independent  of  our  volition ; and  are  there- 
fore, agreeably  to  the  foregoing  doctrine,  mistaken  for  realities. 

Numberless  other  illustrations  of  the  same  general  fact  occur 
to  me  ; but  the  following  is,  I think,  one  of  the  most  striking.  I 
mention  it  in  preference  to  the  rest,  as  it  appears  to  me  to  con- 
nect the  doctrine  in  question  with  some  principles  w’hich  are 
now  universally  admitted  among  philosophers. 

Office  of  conception  in  vision.  — The  distinction  between  the 
original  and  the  acquired  perceptions  of  sight,  is  familiarly 
known  to  every  one  who  has  the  slightest  acquaintance  with  the 
elements  of  optics.  That  this  sense,  prior  to  experience,  con- 
veys to  us  the  notion  of  extension  in  two  dimensions  only,  and 
that  it  gives  us  no  information  concerning  the  distances  at  which 
objects  are  placed  from  the  eye,  are  propositions  which  nobody, 
I presume,  in  the  present  state  of  science,  will  be  disposed  to 
controvert.  In  what  manner  we  are  enabled,  by  a comparison 
between  the  percejitions  of  sight  and  those  of  touch,  to  extend 
the  province  of  the  former  sense  to  a variety  of  qualities  origi- 
nally perceived  by  the  latter  sense  only,  optical  writers  have 
explained  at  great  length ; but  it  is  not  necessary  for  my  pres- 
ent purpose  to  enter  into  any  particular  details  with  respect  to 
their  reasonings  on  the  subject.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  re- 
mark, that,  according  to  the  received  doctrine,  the  original  per- 
ceptions of  sight  become,  in  consequence  of  experience,  signs  of 
the  tangible  qualities  of  external  objects,  and  of  the  distances  at 
which  they  are  placed  from  the  organ ; and  that,  although  the 
knowledge  we  obtain,  in  this  manner,  of  these  qualities  and  dis- 
tances, seems,  from  early  and  constant  habits,  to  be  an  instanta- 
neous perception  ; yet,  in  many  cases,  it  implies  an  exercise  of 
the  judgment,  being  founded  on  a comparison  of  a variety  of 
different  circumstances.* 


♦ [See  note  to  page  50,  respecting  tlie  perception  of  distance  by  the  eye. 
" If  a sphere  of  one  uniform  color  be  set  before  me,”  says  Dr.  Keid,  “ it 


88 


CONCEl*TION. 


From  these  principles,  it  is  an  obvious  consequence,  that  the 
knowledge  we  obtain,  by  the  eye,  of  the  tangible  qualities  of 
bodies,  involves  the  exercise  of  conception,  according  to  the 
definition  of  that  power  which  has  already  been  given.  In 
ordinary  discourse,  indeed,  we  ascribe  this  knowledge,  on 
account  of  the  instantaiieousness  with  which  it  is  obtained,  to 
the  power  of  perception ; but  if  the  common  doctrine  on  the 
subject  he  just,  it  is  the  result  of  a complex  operation  of  the 
mind ; comprehending,  first,  the  perception  of  those  qualities, 
Avhich  are  the  proper  and  original  objects  of  sight ; and, 
secondly,  the  conception  of  those  tangible  qualities  of  which 
the  original  perceptions  of  sight  are  found  from  experience  to 
he  the  signs.  The  notions,  therefore,  we  form,  by  means  of  the 
eye,  of  the  tangible  qualities  of  bodies,  and  of  the  distances  of 
these  objects  from  the  organ,  are  mere  conceptions ; strongly, 
and  indeed  indissolubly,  associated,  by  early  and  constant  habit, 
with  the  original  perception  of  sight. 

When  we  open  our  eyes  on  a magnificent  prospect,  the 
various  distances  at  which  all  its  different  parts  are  placed 
from  the  eye,  and  the  immense  extent  of  the  whole  scene 
before  us,  seem  to  be  perceived  as  immediately,  and  as  instan- 
taneously, by  the  mind,  as  the  colored  surface  which  is  jiainted 
on  the  retina.  The  truth,  however,  unquestionably  is,  that  this 
variety  of  distance,  and  this  immensity  of  extent,  are  not  objects 
of  sense,  hut  of  conception  ; and  the  notions  we  form  of  them 
when  our  eyes  are  open,  differ  from  those  we  should  form  of 


is  certain  that,  by  the  original  power  of  sight,  I could  not  perceive  it  to  be 
a sphere  and  to  have  three  dimensions  [length,  breadth,  and  thicknessj. 
The  eye  originally  could  perceive  only  two  dimensions,  [length  and 
breadth,]  and  a gradual  variation  of  color  on  the  different  sides  of  the  ob- 
ject. It  is  experience  that  teaches  me  that  the  variation  of  color  is  an  effect 
of  spherical  convexity,  and  of  the  distribution  of  light  and  shade.  A 
sphere  may  be  painted  upon  a plane  so  exactly  as  to  be  taken  for  a real 
sphere,  when  the  eye  is  at  a proper  distance  and  in  the  proper  point  of 
view.  The  variation  of  color  exhibited  to  the  eye  by  the  painter’s  art  is 
the  same  which  nature  exliibits  by  the  different  degrees  of  light  falling  up- 
on the  convex  surface  of  a a phere.”] 


CONCEPTION. 


89 


them  with  our  eyes  shut  only  in  this,  that  they  are  kept  stead- 
ily in  the  view  of  the  mind,  by  being  strongly  associated  with 
the  sensations  of  color,  and  with  the  oi’iginal  perceptions  of 
sight.  This  observation  will  be  the  more  readily  admitted,  if  it 
be  considered,  that,  by  a skilful  imitation  of  a natural  landscape, 
in  a common  show-box,  the  mind  may  be  led  to  form  the  same 
notions  of  variety  of  distance,  and  even  of  immense  extent,  as 
if  the  original  scene  were  presented  to  our  senses : and  that, 
although,  in  this  case,  we  have  a speculative  conviction  that  the 
sphere  of  our  vision  only  extends  to  a few  inches ; yet  so 
strong  is  the  association  between  the  original  perceptions  of 
sight,  and  the  conceptions  which  they  habitually  produce,  that 
it  is  not  possible  for  us,  by  an  effort  of  our  will,  to  prevent 
these  conceptions  from  taking  place. 

From  these  observations  it  appears,  that,  when  the  concep- 
tions of  the  mind  are  rendered  steady  and  permanent,  by  being 
strongly  associated  with  any  sensible  impression,  they  command 
our  belief  no  less  than  our  actual  perceptions  ; and,  therefore, 
if  it  were  possible  for  us,  with  our  eyes  shut,  to  keep  up,  for  a 
length  of  time,  the  conception  of  any  sensible  object,  we  should, 
as  long  as  this  effort  continued,  believe  that  the  object  was 
present  to  our  senses. 

Various  phenomena  explained  upon  these  principles.  — It  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  no  slight  confirmation  of  these  remarks,  that 
although,  in  the  dark,  the  illusions  of  imagination  are  much 
more  liable  to  be  mistaken  for  realities,  than  when  their  momen- 
tary effects  on  the  belief  are  continually  checked  and  corrected 
by  the  objects  which  the  light  of  day  presents  to  our  percep- 
tions ; yet,  exen  total  darkness  is  not  so  alarming  to  a person  im- 
pressed with  the  vulgar  stories  of  apparitions,  as  a faint  and 
doubtful  twilight,  which  affords  to  the  conceptions  an  opportunity 
of  fixing  and  prolonging  their  existence,  by  attaching  themselves 
to  something  which  is  obscurely  exhibited  to  the  eye.  In  like 
manner,  when  we  look  through  a fog,  we  are  frequently  apt  to 
mistake  a crow  for  a man  ; and  the  conception  we  have,  upon 
such  an  occasion,  of  the  liuman  figure,  is  much  more  distinct 
and  much  more  steady,  than  it  would  be  possible  for  us  to  forin, 

8* 


90 


CONCEPTION. 


if  we  had  no  sensible  object  before  us ; insomuch  that  when,  on 
a more  attentive  observation,  the  crow  shrinks  to  its  own  dimen- 
sions, we  find  it  impossible,  by  any  effort,  to  conjure  up  the 
phantom  which  a moment  before  we  seemed  to  perceive. 

If  these  observations  are  admitted,  the  effects  which  exhibi- 
tions of  fictitious  distress  produce  on  the  mind,  will  appear  less 
wonderful,  than  they  are  supposed  to  be.  During  the  represen- 
tation of  a tragedy,  I acknowledge,  that  we  have  a general  con- 
viction that  the  whole  is  a fiction ; but,  I believe,  it  wiU  be 
found,  that  the  violent  emotions  which  are  sometimes  produced 
by  the  distresses  of  the  stage,  take  their  rise,  in  most  cases, 
from  a momentary  belief,  that  the  distresses  are  real.  I say,  in 
most  cases ; because,  I acknowledge,  that,  independently  of  any 
such  belief,  there  is  something  contagious  in  a faithful  expres- 
sion of  any  of  the  passions. 

The  emotions  produced  by  tragedy  are,  upon  this  supposition, 
somewhat  analogous  to  the  dread  we  feel  when  we  look  down 
from  the  battlement  of  a tower.*  In  both  cases,  we  have  a gen- 


* With  respect  to  the  dread  which  we  feel  in  looking  down  from  the 
battlement  of  a tower,  it  is  curious  to  remark  the  effects  of  habit  in  grad- 
ually destroying  it.  The  manner  in  which  habit  operates  in  tliis  case, 
seems  to  be  by  giving  us  a command  over  our  thoughts,  so  as  to  enable  us 
to  withdraw  our  attention  from  the  precipice  before  us,  and  direct  it  to  any 
other  object  at  pleasure.  It  is  thus  that  the  mason  and  the  sailor  not  only 
can  take  precautions  for  their  own  safety,  but  remain  completely  masters 
of  themselves,  in  situations  where  other  men,  engrossed  with  their  imagin- 
ary danger,  would  experience  a total  suspension  of  their  faculties.  Any 
strong  passion  which  occupies  the  mind,  produces,  for  the  moment,  the 
same  effect  with  habit.  A person  alarmed  with  the  apprehension  of  fire, 
has  been  known  to  escape  from  the  top  of  a house  by  a path,  which,  at 
anotlier  time,  he  would  have  considered  as  impracticable  ; and  soldiers,  in 
mounting  a breach,  are  said  to  have  sometimes  found  their  way  to  tlie 
enemy,  liy  a route  which  appeared  inaccessible  after  their  violent  passions 
had  subsided. 

From  the  principles  which  I have  endeavored  to  establish  in  this  chap- 
ter, may  be  derived  a simidc,  and  I think,  a satisfactory,  explanation  of  the 
manner  in  which  superstition,  considered  in  contradistinction  to  genuine 
religion,  onerates  on  the  mind.  The  gloomy  phantoms  which  she  presents 
to  her  vio  ims  in  their  early  infancy ; and  which  consist  chiefly  of  images 


CONCEPTION. 


91 


eral  conviction,  ttat  there  is  no  ground  for  the  feelings  we  ex- 
perience ; hut  the  momentary  influences  of  imagination  are  so 
powerful  as  to  produce  these  feelings,  before  reflection  has  time 
to  come  to  our  relief. 


or  representations  of  spectres  and  demons,  and  of  invisible  scenes  of  hor- 
ror, produce  their  effect,  not  through  the  medium  of  reasoning  and  judg- 
ment, but  of  the  powers  of  conception  and  imagination.  No  argument  is 
alleged  to  prove  their  existence  ; but  strong  and  lively  notions  of  them  are 
conveyed ; and,  in  proportion  as  this  is  done,  the  belief  of  them  becomes 
steady  and  habitual.  It  is  even  sufficient  in  many  cases,  to  resist  all  the 
force  of  argument  to  the  contrary,  or,  if  it  yields  to  it  during  the  bustle  of 
business  and  the  light  of  day,  its  influence  returns  in  the  hours  of  solitude 
and  darkness.  When  the  mind,  too,  is  weakened  by  disease,  or  the  infirmi- 
ties of  age,  and  when  the  attention  ceases  to  be  occupied  with  external  ob- 
jects, the  thoughts  are  apt  to  revert  to  their  first  channel,  and  to  dwell  on 
the  conceptions  to  which  they  were  accustomed  in  the  nursery.  “ Let 
custom,”  says  Locke,  “ from  the  very  childhood,  have  joined  figure  and 
shape  to  the  idea  of  God,  and  what  absxu'dities  will  that  mind  be  liable  to 
about  Deity ! ” A person  of  a lively  but  somewhat  gloomy  imagination 
once  acknowledged  to  me,  that  he  could  trace  some  of  his  superstitious 
impi'essions  with  respect  to  the  Deity,  to  the  stern  aspect  of  a judge  whom 
he  had  seen,  when  a school-boy,  pronounce  sentence  of  death  upon  a crim- 
inal. Hence  it  would  appear,  that  he  who  has  the  power  of  modelling  the 
habitual  conceptions  of  an  infant  mind,  is,  in  a great  measure  the  arbiter 
of  its  future  happiness  or  misery.  By  guarding  against  the  spectres  con- 
jured up  by  superstitious  weakness,  and  presenting  to  it  only  images  of 
what  is  good,  lovely,  and  happy,  he  may  secure  through  life  a perpetual 
sunshine  to  the  soul,  and  may  perhaps  make  some  provision  against  the 
physical  evils  to  which  humanity  is  exposed.  Even  in  those  awful  dis- 
eases which  disturb  the  exercise  of  reason,  I am  apt  to  think,  that  the 
complexion  of  madness,  in  point  of  gayety  or  of  despondency,  depends 
much  on  the  nature  of  our  first  conceptions  : and  it  would  surely  be  no 
inconsiderable  addition  to  the  comfort  of  any  individual  to  know,  that  some 
provision  had  been  made  by  the  tender  care  of  his  first  instructors,  to 
lighten  the  pressure  of  this  greatest  of  all  earthly  calamities,  if  it  ever 
should  be  his  lot  to  bear  it.  In  truth,  the  only  effectual  antidote  against 
superstitious  weakness  is  to  inspire  the  mind  with  just  and  elevated  no- 
tions of  the  administration  of  the  universe  ; for  we  may  rest  assured,  that 
religion,  in  one  form  or  another,  is  the  natural  and  spontaneous  growth  of 
man’s  intellectual  and  moral  constitution ; and  the  only  question  in  the 
case  of  individuals  is,  whether,  under  the  regulation  of  an  enlightened 
understanding,  it  is  to  prove  the  best  solace  of  life  and  the  surest  support 


92 


ABSTRACTION. 


C H A P T E E IV. 

OF  ABSTRACTION. 

I.  Gen  eral  Observations  on  this  Faculty  of  the  Mind. 

The  origin  of  general  terms.  — The  origin  of  appellatives,  or, 
in  other  words,  the  origin  of  those  classes  of  objects  which,  in 
the  schools,  are  called  genera  and  species,  has  been  considered 
by  some  philosophers  as  one  of  the  most  difficult  problems  in 
metaphysics.  The  account  of  it  which  is  given  by  Mr.  Smith, 
in  his  dissertation  on  the  Origin  of  Languages,  appears  to  me 
to  be  equally  simple  and  satisfactory. 

“ The  assignation,”  says  he,  “ of  particular  names,  to  denote 
particular  objects  ; that  is,  the  institution  of  nouns  substantive ; 
would  probably  be  one  of  the  first  steps  towards  the  formation 
of  language.  The  particular  cave,  whose  covering  sheltered  the 
savage  from  the  weather ; the  particular  tree,  whose  fruit  re- 
lieved his  hunger ; the  particular  fountain,  whose  water  allayed 
his  thirst ; would  first  be  denominated  by  the  words,  cave,  tree, 
fountain ; or  by  whatever  other  appellations  he  might  think 
proper,  in  that  primitive  jargon,  to  mark  them.  Afterwards, 
when  the  more  enlarged  experience  of  this  savage  had  led  him 
to  observe,  and  his  necessary  occasions  obliged  him  to  make 
mention  of,  other  caves,  and  other  trees,  and  other  fountains ; 
he  would  naturally  bestow,  upon  each  of  those  new  objects,  the 
same  name  by  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  express  the 
similar  object  he  was  first  acquainted  with.  And  thus,  those 


of  virtue,  or  to  be  converted,  by  the  influence  of  prejudices  and  a diseased 
imagination,  into  a source  of  imbecility,  inconsistency,  and  suffering. 


ABSTRACTION. 


93 


words,  which  were  originally  the  proper  names  of  individuals, 
would  each  of  them  insensibly  become  the  common  name  of  a 
multitude.” 

“ It  is  this  application,”  he  continues,  “ of  the  name  of  an  in- 
dividual to  a great  number  of  objects,  whose  resemblance  natu- 
rally recalls  the  idea  of  that  individual,  and  of  the  name  which 
expresses  it,  that  seems  originally  to  have  given  occasion  to  the 
formation  of  those  classes,  and  assortments,  which,  in  the  schools, 
are  called  genera  and  species  ; and  of  which  the  ingenious  and 
eloquent  Rousseau  finds  himself  so  much  at  a loss  to  account 
for  the  origin.  What  constitutes  a species,  is  merely  a number 
of  objects,  bearing  a certain  degree  of  resemblance  to  one  an- 
other ; and,  on  that  account,  denominated  by  a single  appella- 
tion, which  may  be  applied  to  express  any  one  of  them.” 

This  view  of  the  natural  progress  of  the  mind,  in  forming 
classifications  of  external  objects,  receives  some  illustration 
from  a fact  mentioned  by  Captain  Cook,  in  his  account  of  a 
small  island  called  Wateeoo,  which  he  visited  in  sailing  from 
New  Zealand  to  the  Friendly  Islands.  “The  inhabitants,”  says 
he,  “ were  afraid  to  come  near  our  cows  and  horses,  nor  did  they 
foim  the  least  conception  of  their  nature.  But  the  sheep  and 
goats  did  not  surpass  the  limits  of  their  ideas ; for  they  gave  us 
to  understand  that  they  knew  them  to  be  birds.  It  will  appear,” 
he  adds,  “ rather  incredible,  that  human  ignorance  could  ever 
make  so  strong  a mistake,  there  not  being  the  most  distant  simil- 
itude between  a sheep  or  goat,  and  any  winged  animal.  But 
these  people  seemed  to  know  nothing  of  the  existence  of  any 
other  land  animals,  besides  hogs,  dogs,  and  birds.  Our  sheep 
and  goats,  they  could  see,  were  very  different  creatures  from 
the  two  first,  and  therefore  they  inferred  that  they  must  belong 
to  the  latter  class,  in  which  they  knew  that  there  is  a considera- 
ble variety  of  species.”  I would  add  to  Cook’s  very  judicious 
remarks,  that  the  mistake  of  these  islanders  probably  did  not 
arise  from  their  considering  a sheep  or  a goat  as  bearing  a 
more  striking  resemblance  to  a bird,  than  to  the  two  classes  of 
quadrupeds  with  which  they  were  acquainted ; but  to  the  want 
of  a generic  word,  such  as  quadruped,  comprehending  these  two 


94 


ABSTKACTIOir. 


species ; Avliicli  men  in  their  situation  would  no  more  he  led  to 
form,  than  a person  who  had  only  seen  one  individual  of  each 
species,  would  think  of  an  appellative  to  express  both,  instead 
of  applying  a proper  name  to  each.  In  consequence  of  the 
variety  of  birds,  it  appears,  that  they  had  a generic  name  com- 
prehending all  of  them,  to  which  it  was  not  unnatural  for  them 
to  refer  any  new  animal  they  met  with. 

The  process  of  abstraction  explained.  — The  classification  of 
different  objects  supposes  a power  of  attending  to  some  of  their 
qualities  or  attributes,  without  attending  to  the  rest ; for  no  two 
objects  are  to  he  found  without  some  specific  difference ; and  no 
assortment  or  ai'rangement  can  be  formed  among  things  not 
perfectly  alike,  but  by  losing  sight  of  their  distinguishing  pecu- 
liarities, and  limiting  the  attention  to  those  attributes  which  be- 
long to  them  in  common.  Indeed,  without  this  power  of  attend- 
ing separately  to  things  which  our  senses  present  to  us  in  a state 
of  union,  we  never  could  have  had  any  idea  of  number  ; for,  be- 
fore we  can  consider  different  objects  as  forming  a multitude,  it 
is  necessary  that  we  should  be  able  to  apply  to  all  of  them  one 
eommon  name ; or,  in  other  words,  that  we  should  reduce  them 
all  to  the  same  genus.  The  various  objects,  for  example,  ani- 
mate and  inanimate,  which  are,  at  this  moment  before  me,  I may 
class  and  number  in  a variety  of  different  ways,  according  to  the 
view  of  them  that  I choose  to  take.  I may  reckon  successively 
the  number  of  sheep,  of  cows,  of  horses,  of  elms,  of  oaks,  of 
beeches ; or  I may  first  reckon  the  number  of  animals,  and  then 
the  number  of  trees ; or  I may  first  reckon  the  number  of  all 
the  organized  substances  which  my  senses  present  to  me.  But 
whatever  be  the  principle  on  which  my  classification  proceeds, 
it  is  evident  that  the  objects  numbered  together  must  be  consid- 
ered in  those  respects  only  in  which  they  agree  with  each  other ; 
and  that,  if  I had  no  power  of  separating  the  combinations  of 
sense,  I never  could  have  conceived  them  as  forming  a plurality. 

This  power  of  considering  certain  qualities  or  attributes  of  an 
object  apart  from  the  rest ; or,  as  I would  rather  choose  to  define 
it,  the  qyower  which  the  understanding  has  of  separating  the  com- 
binations luhich  are  presented  to  it,  is  distinguished  by  logicians 


ABSTRACTION. 


95 


by  the  name  of  abstraction.  It  has  been  supposed,  by  some  phi- 
losojihers,  (with  what  probability  I shall  not  now  inquire,)  to 
form  the  characteristical  attribute  of  a rational  nature.  That  it 
is  one  of  the  most  important  of  all  our  faculties,  and  very  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  exercise  of  our  reasoning  powers,  is 
beyond  dispute. 

Usefulness  of  the  power  of  abstraction.  — The  subserviency  of 
abstraction  to  the  power  of  reasoning,  and  also  its  subserviency 
to  the  exertions  of  a poetical  or  creative  imagination,  shall  be 
afterwards  fully  illustrated.  At  present,  it  is  sufficient  for  my 
purpose  to  remark,  that  as  abstraction  is  the  groundwork  of 
classification,  without  this  faculty  of  the  mind  Ave  should  have 
been  perfectly  incapable  of  general  speculation,  and  aU  our 
knowledge  must  necessarily  have  been  limited  to  individuals ; 
and  that  some  of  the  most  useful  branches  of  science,  particu- 
larly the  different  branches  of  mathematics,  in  which  the  very 
subjects  of  our  reasoning  are  abstractions  of  the  understanding, 
could  never  have  possibly  had  an  existence.  With  respect  to 
the  subserviency  of  this  faculty  to  poetical  imagination,  it  is  no 
less  obvious,  that,  as  the  poet  is  supplied  with  all  his  materials 
by  experience,  and  as  his  province  is  limited  to  combine  and 
modify  things  Avhich  really  exist,  so  as  to  produce  neiv  wholes 
of  his  own ; so,  every  exertion  which  he  thus  makes  of  his  pow- 
ers, presupposes  the  exercise  of  abstraction  in  decomposing  and 
separating  actual  combinations.  And  it  was  on  this  account 
that,  in  the  chapter  on  conception,  I was  led  to  make  a distinc- 
tion between  that  faculty,  which  is  evidently  simple  and  uncom- 
pounded, and  the  power  of  imagination,  which  (at  least  in  the 
sense  in  which  I employ  the  word  in  these  inquiries)  is  the  re- 
sult of  a combination  of  various  other  powers. 

I have  introduced  these  remarks,  in  order  to  point  out  a dif- 
ference between  the  abstractions  which  are  subservient  to  rea- 
soning, and  those  which  are  subservient  to  imagination.  And, 
if  I am  not  mistaken,  it  is  a distinction  which  has  not  been  suf- 
ficiently attended  to  by  some  writers  of  eminence.  In  every 
instance  in  which  imagination  is  employed  in  forming  new 
wholes,  by  decompounding  and  combining  the  conceptions  of 


96 


ABSTRACTION. 


sense,  it  is  evidently  necessary  that  the  poet  or  the  painter 
should  be  able  to  state  to  himself  the  circumstances  abstracted, 
as  separate  objects  of  concept  ion.  But  this  is  by  no  means  re- 
quisite in  every  case  in  which  abstraction  is  subservient  to  the 
power  of  reasoning ; for  it  frequently  happens,  that  we  can  rea- 
son concerning  one  quality  or  po'operty  of  an  object  abstracted 
from  the  rest,  while,  at  the  same  time,  we  find  it  impossible  to  con- 
ceive it  separately.  Thus,  I can  reason  concerning  extension 
and  figure,  without  any  reference  to  color ; although  it  may  be 
doubted,  if  a person  possessed  of  sight  can  make  extension  and 
figure  steady  objects  of  concejition,  without  connecting  with 
them  one  color  or  another.  Nor  is  this  always  owing  (as  it  is 
in  the  instance  now  mentioned)  merely  to  the  association  of 
ideas ; for  there  are  cases,  in  which  we  can  reason  concerning 
things  separately,  which  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  suppose  any 
being  so  constituted  as  to  conceive  apart.  Thus,  we  can  reason 
concerning  length,  abstracted  from  any  other  dimension ; al- 
though, surely,  no  understanding  can  make  length,  without 
breadth,  an  object  of  conception.  And,  by  the  way,  this  leads 
me  to  take  notice  of  an  error,  which  mathematical  teachers  are 
apt  to  commit,  in  explaining  the  first  principles  of  geometry. 
By  dwelling  long  on  Euclid’s  first  definitions,  they  lead  the  stu- 
dent to  suppose  that  they  relate  to  notions  which  are  extremely 
mysterious ; and  to  strain  his  powers  in  fruitless  attempts  to 
conceive,  what  cannot  possibly  be  made  an  object  of  conception. 
If  these  definitions  were  omitted,  or  very  slightly  touched  upon, 
and  the  attention  at  once  directed  to  geometrical  reasonings,  the 
student  would  immediately  jierceive,  that  although  the  lines  in 
the  diagrams  are  really  extended  in  two  dimensions,  yet  that 
the  demonstrations  relate  only  to  one  of  them  ; and  that  the  hu- 
man understanding  ha3  the  faculty  of  reasoning  concerning 
things  separately,  which  are  always  presented  to  us,  both  by 
our  powers  of  perception  and  conception,  in  a state  of  union. 
Such  abstractions,  in  truth,  are  familiar  to  the  most  illiterate  of 
mankind ; and  it  is  in  this  very  way  that  they  are  insensibly 
formed.  When  a tradesman  speaks  of  the  length  of  a room,  in 
contradistinction  to  its  breadth ; or  when  he  speaks  of  the  dis- 


ABSTRACTION. 


97 


tance  between  any  two  objects,  be  forms  exactly  the  same  ab- 
straction wbicli  is  referred  to  by  Euclid  in  his  second  definition, 
and  which  most  of  his  commentators  have  thought  it  necessary 
to  illustrate  by  prolix  metaphysical  disquisitions. 

Abstraction  is  possible  without  generalization.  — I shall  only 
observe  further  with  respect  to  the  nature  and  province  of  this 
faculty  of  the  mind,  that  notwithstanding  its  essential  subservi- 
ency to  every  act  of  classification,  yet  it  might  have  been  exer- 
cised, although  we  had  only  been  acquainted  with  one  individ- 
ual object.  Although,  for  example,  we  had  never  seen  but  one 
rose,  we  might  stiP  have  been  able  to  attend  to  its  color,  with- 
out thinking  of  its  other  properties.  This  has  led  some  philos- 
ophers to  suppose,  that  another  faculty  besides  abstraction,  to 
which  they  have  given  the  name  of  generalization,  is  necessary 
to  account  for  the  formation  of  genera  and  species ; and  they 
have  endeavored  to  show,  that  although  generahzation  without 
abstraction  is  impossible,  yet  that  we  might  have  been  so  formed 
as  to  be  able  to  abstract  without  being  capable  of  generalizing. 
The  grounds  of  this  opinion  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  exam- 
ine, for  any  of  the  purposes  which  I have  at  present  in  view.* 

II.  Of  the  Objects  of  our  Thoughts,  when  lue  employ  general 
terms.  Further  consideration  of  the  ideal  theory.  — From  the 


* The  words  abstraction  and  generalization  ai'e  commonly,  but  improp- 
erly, used  as  synonymous  : and  the  same  inaccuracy  is  frequently  commit- 
ted in  speaking  of  abstract  or  general  ideas,  as  if  the  two  expressions  were 
convertible.  A person  who  had  never  seen  but  one  rose  (it  has  been  al- 
ready remarked)  might  yet  have  been  able  to  consider  its  color  apart  from 
its  other  qualities ; and  therefore,  (to  express  myself  in  conformity  to  com- 
mon language,)  there  may  be  such  a thing  as  an  idea  which  is  at  once  ab- 
stract and  particular.  After  having  perceived  this  quality  as  belonging  to 
a variety  of  individuals,  we  can  consider  it  without  reference  to  any  of  them, 
and  thus  form  the  notion  of  redness  or  whiteness  in  general,  which  may  be 
called  a general  abstract  idea.  These  words  abstract  and  general,  therefore, 
when  applied  to  ideas,  are  as  completely  distinct  from  each  other  as  any 
tw'o  words  to  be  found  in  the  language. 

It  is  indeed  true,  that  the  formation  of  every  general  notion  presupposes 
abstraction ; but  it  is  surely  improper  on  this  account,  to  call  a general 
term  an  abstract  term,  or  a general  idea  an  abstract  idea. 

9 


98 


ABSTRACTION. 


account  wliicli  was  given  in  a former  chapter  of  th  ,omm'  n 
theories  of  perception,  it  appears  to  have  been  a prevailing 
opinion  among  philosophers,  that  the  qualities  of  external  ob- 
jects are  perceived  by  means  of  images  or  species  transmitted 
to  the  mind  by  the  organs  of  sense ; an  opinion  of  which  I al- 
ready endeavored  to  trace  the  origin,  from  certain  natural  preju- 
dices suggested  by  the  phenomena  of  the  material  world.  The 
same  train  of  thinking  has  led  them  to  suppose,  that,  in  the  case 
of  all  our  other  intellectual  operations,  there  exist  in  the  mind 
certain  ideas  distinct  from  the  mind  itself ; and  that  these  ideas 
are  the  objects  about  which  our  thoughts  are  employed.  When 
I recollect,  for  example,  the  appearance  of  an  absent  friend,  it 
is  supposed  that  the  immediate  object  of  my  thoughts  is  an  idea 
of  my  friend,  which  I at  first  received  by  my  senses,  and  which 
I have  been  enabled  to  retain  in  the  mind  by  the  faculty  of 
memory.  AVhen  I form  to  myself  any  imaginary  combination 
by  an  effort  of  poetical  invention,  it  is  supposed,  in  like  manner, 
that  the  parts  which  I combine,  existed  previously  in  the  mind, 
and  furnish  the  materials  on  which  it  is  the  province  of  imagi- 
nation to  operate.  It  is  to  Dr.  Reid  we  owe  the  important  re- 
mark, that  all  these  notions  are  wholly  hypothetical ; that  it  is 
impossible  to  produce  a shadow  of  evidence  in  support  of  them  ; 
and  that,  even  although  we  were  to  admit  their  truth,  they  would 
not  render  tlie  phenomena  in  question  more  intelligible.  Ac- 
cording to  his  principles,  therefore,  we  have  no  ground  for  sup- 
posing, that,  in  any  one  operation  of  the  mind,  there  exists  in  it 
an  object  distinct  from  the  mind  itself;  and  all  the  common  ex- 
pressions which  involve  such  a supposition,  are  to  be  considered 
as  unmeaning  circumlocutions,  which  serve  only  to  disguise 
from  us  the  real  history  of  the  intellectual  phenomena.* 


* In  order  to  prevent  misapprehensions  of  Dr.  Eeid’s  meaning  in  his  rea- 
sonings against  the  ideal  theory,  it  may  be  necessary  to  explain,  a little 
more  fulh  than  I have  done  in  the  text,  in  what  sense  he  calls  in  question 
the  existence  of  ideas;  for  the  meaning  which  the  word  is  employed  to  con- 
ve.y  in  ])0])ular  discourse,  differs  widely  from  that  which  is  annexed  to  it 
by  the  {)hilosopliers  whose  opinion  he  controverts.  This  explanation  1 
sliall  give  in  his  own  words  : — 


ABSTRACTION. 


99 


“We  are  at  a loss  to  know,”  says  tins  excellent  philosopher, 
“ how  we  perceive  distant  objects ; how  we  remember  things 
past ; how  we  imagine  things  that  have  no  existence.  Ideas  in 
the  mind  seem  to  account  for  all  these  operations ; they  are  all 
by  the  means  of  ideas  reduced  to  one  operation ; to  a kind  of 
feeling,  or  immediate  perception  of  things  present,  and  in  con- 
tact with  the  percipient ; and  feeling  is  an  operation  so  familiar, 
that  we  think  it  needs  no  explanation,  but  may  serve  to  explain 
other  operations. 

“ But  this  feeling,  or  immediate  perception,  is  as  difficult  to 
be  comprehended,  as  the  things  which  we  pretend  to  explain  by 
it.  Two  things  may  be  in  contact,  without  any  feeling  of  per- 
ception ; there  must,  therefore,  be  in  the  percipient,  a power  to 
feel,  or  to  perceive.  How  this  power  is  produced,  and  how  it 
operates,  is  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  our  knowledge.  As  little 
can  we  know,  whether  this  power  must  be  limited  to  things 
present,  and  in  contact  with  us.  Neither  can  any  man  pretend 
to  prove,  that  the  Being  who  gave  us  the  power  to  perceive 


“ In  popular  language,  idea  signifies  the  same  thing  as  conception,  ap- 
prehension, notion.  To  have  an  idea  of  any  thing,  is  to  conceive  it.  To 
have  a distinct  idea,  is  to  conceive  it  distinctly.  To  have  no  idea  of  it,  is 
not  to  conceive  it  at  all.  When  the  word  idea  is  taken  in  this  popular 
sense,  no  man  can  possibly  doubt  whether  he  has  ideas. 

“According  to  the  philosophical  meaning  of  the  word  idea,  it  does  not 
signify  that  act  of  the  mind  which  we  call  thought,  or  conception,  but  some 
object  of  thought.  Of  these  objects  of  thought  called  ideas,  different  sects 
of  philosophers  have  given  very  different  accounts. 

“ Some  have  held  them  to  he  self-existent ; others,  to  he  in  the  divine 
mind ; others,  in  our  own  minds  ; and  others,  in  the  brain,  or  sensorium.” 
— p.  213. 

I don’t  know  of  any  author  who,  prior  to  Dr.  Reid,  has  expressed  him- 
self on  this  subject  with  so  much  justness  and  precision  as  Father  Buffier, 
in  the  following  passage  of  his  Treatise  on  J^irst  Truths. 

“ If  we  confine  ourselves  to  what  is  intelligible  in  our  observations  on 
Ideas,  we  will  say,  they  are  nothing  hut  mere  modifications  of  the  mind  as 
a thinking  being.  They  are  called  ideas  with  regard  to  the  object  repre- 
sented ; and  perception,  with  regard  to  the  faculty  representing.  It  is  man- 
ifest that  our  ideas,  considered  in  this  sense,  are  not  more  distinguished 
from  our  understanding  than  motion  is  from  a body  moved.” 


100 


ABSTRACTION. 


tilings  present,  may  not  give  us  the  power  to  perceive  things 
distant,  to  remember  things  past,  and  to  conceive  things  that 
never  existed.” 

What  ideas  correspond  to  general  terms.  — As  in  all  the  an- 
cient metaphysical  systems  it  was  taken  for  granted,  (probably 
from  the  analogy  of  our  external  perceptions,)  that  every  exer- 
tion of  thought  implies  the  existence  of  an  object  distinct  from 
the  thinking  being;  it  naturally  occurred,  as  a very  curious 
question.  What  is  the  immediate  object  of  our  attention,  when 
we  are  engaged  in  any  general  speculation  ; or,  in  other  words, 
what  is  the  nature  of  the  idea  corresponding  to  a general  term  ? 
When  I think  of  any  particular  object  which  I have  formerly 
perceived,  such  as  a particular  friend,  a particular  tree,  or  a 
particular  mountain,  I can  comprehend  what  is  meant  by  a pic- 
ture or  representation  of  such  objects : and  therefore  the  expla- 
nation given  by  the  ideal  theory  of  that  act  of  the  mind  which 
we  formerly  called  conception,  if  not  perfectly  satisfactory,  is  at 
least  not  wholly  unintelligible.  But  what  account  shall  we  give 
upon  the  principles  of  this  theory,  of  the  objects  of  my  thoughts, 
when  I employ  the  words  friend,  tree,  mountain,  as  generic 
terms  ? For,  that  all  the  things  I have  ever  perceived  are  indi- 
viduals ; and  consequently,  that  the  ideas  denoted  by  general 
words,  (if  such  ideas  exist,)  are  not  copied  from  any  originals 
that  have  fallen  under  my  observation,  is  not  only  self-evident, 
but  almost  an  identical  proposition. 

Opinions  of  the  ancients  on  this  subject.  — In  answer  to  this 
question,  the  Platonists,  and,  at  a still  earlier  period,  the  Pytha- 
goreans taught,  that  although  these  universal  ideas  are  not 
copied  from  any  objects  perceivable  by  sense,  yet  that  they 
have  an  existence  independent  of  the  human  mind,  and  are  no 
more  to  be  confounded  with  the  understanding,  of  which  they 
are  the  proper  objects,  than  material  things  are  to  be  confounded 
with  our  powers  of  external  perception  ; that  as  all  the  individ- 
uals which  compose  a genus  must  possess  something  in  common ; 
and  as  it  is  in  consequence  of  this  that  they  belong  to  that  ge- 
nus, and  are  distinguishable  by  the  same  name,  this  common 
thing  forms  the  essence  of  each,  and  is  the  object  of  the  under 


ABSTKACTIOX. 


101 


standing,  wnen  we  reason  concerning  the  genus.  They  main- 
tamed  also, that  this  common  essence*  notwithstanding  its  insep- 
arable union  with  a multitude  of  different  individuals,  is,  in  itself, 
one  and  indivisible. 

On  most  of  these  points,  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle  seems  to 
have  coincided  very  nearly  with  that  of  Plato.  The  language, 
however,  which  these  philosophers  employed  on  this  subject  was 
different,  and  gave  to  their  doctrines  the  appearance  of  a wider 
diversity  than  probably  existed  between  their  opinions.  While 
Plato  was  led,  by  his  passion  for  the  marvellous  and  the  myste- 
rious, to  insist  on  the  incomprehensible  union  of  the  same  idea 
or  essence  with  a number  of  individuals,  without  multiplication 
or  division ; f Aristotle,  more  cautious,  and  aiming  at  greater 
perspicuity,  contented  himself  with  saying,  that  aU  individuals 
are  composed  of  matter  and  form  ; and  that  it  is  in  consequence 
of  possessing  a common  form,  that  different  individuals  belong 
to  the  same  genus.  But  they  both  agreed,  that  as  the  matter, 
or  the  individual  natures,  of  objects  were  perceived  by  sense ; 
so  the  general  idea,  or  essence,  or  form,  was  perceived  by  the 
intellect ; and  that,  as  the  attention  of  the  vulgar  was  chiefly 
engrossed  with  the  former,  so  the  latter  furnished  to  the  philos- 
opher the  materials  of  his  speculations. 

The  chief  difference  between  the  opinions  of  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle on  the  subject  of  ideas,  related  to  the  mode  of  their  exist- 
ence. That  the  matter  of  which  all  thmgs  are  made,  existed 
from  eternity,  was  a principle  which  both  admitted ; but  Plato 


* In  this  very  imperfect  sketch  of  the  opinions  of  the  ancients  concern- 
ing universals,  I have  substituted,  instead  of  the  word  idea,  the  word 
essence,  as  better  fitted  to  convey  to  a modem  reader  the  true  import  of 
Plato’s  expressions.  The  word  essentia  is  said  to  have  been  first  employed 
by  Cicero  ; and  it  was  afterwards  adopted  by  the  schoolmen,  in  the  same 
sense  in  which  the  Platonists  used  the  word  idea. 

t “ The  idea  of  a thing,”  says  Plato,  “ is  that  which  makes  one  of  the 
many ; which,  preserving  the  unity  and  integrity  of  its  own  nature,  runs 
through  and  mixes  with  things  infinite  in  number ; and  yet,  however  mul- 
tiform it  may  appear,  is  always  the  same  : so  that  by  it  we  find  out  and 
discriminate  the  thing,  whatever  shapes  it  may  assume,  and  under  what- 
ever disguise  it  may  conceal  itself.” 

9* 


102 


ABSTRACTION. 


further  taught,  that  of  every  species  of  things,  there  is  an  idea 
of  form  which  also  existed  from  eternity ; and  that  this  idea  is 
the  exemplar,  or  model,  according  to  which  the  individuals  of  the 
species  were  made  ; whereas  Aristotle  held,  that,  although  mat- 
ter may  exist  without  form,  yet  that  forms  could  not  exist  with- 
out matter. 

Opinions  of  the  philosophers  of  the  Middle  Ages.  — As  it  is 
not  my  object,  in  this  work,  to  enter  into  historical  details,  any 
further  than  is  necessary  for  illustrating  the  subjects  of  which  I 
treat,  I shall  pass  over  the  various  attempts  which  were  made 
by  the  Eclectic  philosophers,  (a  sect  which  arose  at  Alexandria, 
about  the  beginning  of  the  third  century,)  to  reconcile  the  doc- 
trines of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  concerning  ideas.  The  endless 
difficulties,  it  would  appear,  to  which  their  speculations  led,  in- 
duced, at  last,  the  more  cautious  and  modest  inquirers  to  banish 
them  entirely  from  Dialectics,  and  to  content  themselves  with 
studying  the  arrangements  or  classifications  of  universals,  which 
the  ancient  philosophers  had  made,  without  engaging  in  any 
metaphysical  disquisitions  concerning  their  nature.  Porphyry, 
in  particular,  although  he  tells  us  that  he  has  speculated  much 
on  this  subject,  yet,  in  his  Introduction  to  Aristotle’s  Catego- 
ries, waives  tlie  consideration  of  it  as  obscure  and  intricate.  On 
such  questions  as  these  ; “ Whether  genera  and  species  exist  in 
nature,  or  are  only  conceptions  of  the  human  mind ; and  (on 
the  supposition  that  they  exist  in  nature)  whether  they  are  inher- 
ent in  the  objects  of  sense,  or  disjoined  from  them  ? ” he  de- 
clines giving  any  determination. 

This  passage  in  Porphyry’s  Introduction  is  an  object  of  curi- 
osity ; as  by  a singular  concurrence  of  circumstances,  it  served 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  a controversy  from  which  it  was 
the  author’s  intention  to  divert  the  inquiries  of  his  readers. 
Amidst  the  disorders  produced  by  the  irruptions  of  the  barba- 
rians, the  knowledge  of  the  Greek  tongue  was  almost  entirely 
lost;  and  the  studies  of  philosophers  were  confined  to  Latin 
versions  of  Aristotle’s  Dialectics,  and  Porphyry’s  Introduction 
concerning  the  Categories.  With  men  who  had  a relish  for  such 
disquisitions,  it  is  probable  that  the  passage  already  quoted  from 


ABSTRACTION. 


103 


Poi'pliyry,  would  liave  a tendency  rather  to  excite  than  to  damp 
curiosity ; and  accordingly  we  have  reason  to  believe,  that  the 
controversy  to  which  it  relates  continued,  during  the  dark  ages, 
to  form  a favorite  subject  of  discussion.  The  opinion  which 
was  prevalent  was,  (to  use  the  scholastic  language  of  the  times,) 
that  universals  do  not  exist  before  things,  nor  after  things,  hut  in 
things ; that  is,  (if  I may  be  allowed  to  attempt  a commentary 
upon  expressions  to  which  I do  not  pretend  to  be  able  to  annex 
very  precise  notions,)  universal  ideas  have  not  (as  Plato  thought) 
an  existence  separable  from  individual  objects ; and  therefore 
they  could  not  have  existed  prior  to  them  in  the  order  of  time ; 
nor  yet,  (according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Stoics,)  are  they  mere 
conceptions  of  the  mind,  formed  in  consequence  of  an  examina- 
tion and  comparison  of  particulars ; but  these  ideas  or  forms 
are  from  eternity  united  inseparably  with  that  matter  of  which 
things  consist ; or,  as  the  Aristotelians  sometimes  express  them- 
selves, the  forms  of  things  are  from  eternity  immersed  in  mat- 
ter. The  reader  wiU,  I hope,  forgive  me  for  entering  into  these 
details,  not  only  on  account  of  their  connection  with  the  obser- 
vations which  are  to  follow ; but  as  they  relate  to  a controversy 
which,  for  many  ages,  employed  all  the  ingenuity  and  learning 
in  Europe ; and  which,  therefore,  however  frivolous  in  itself, 
deserves  the  attention  of  philosophers,  as  one  of  the  most  curi- 
ous events  which  occur  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind. 

Such  appears  to  have  been  the  prevailing  opinion  concerning 
the  nature  of  universals,  till  the  eleventh  century ; when  a new 
doctrine,  or  (as  some  authors  think)  a doctrine  borrowed  from 
the  school  of  Zeno,  was  proposed  by  Roscelinus  ; and  soon  after 
very  widely  propagated  over  Europe  by  the  abilities  and  elo- 
quence of  one  of  his  scholars,  the  celebrated  Peter  Abelard. 
According  to  these  pliilosophers,  there  are  no  existences  in  na- 
ture corresponding  to  general  terms ; and  the  objects  of  our  at- 
tention in  aU  of  our  general  speculations  are  not  ideas,  but 
words. 

In  consequence  of  this  new  doctrine,  the  schoolmen  gradually 
formed  themselves  into  two  sects ; one  of  which  attached  itself 
to  the  opinions  of  Roscelinus  and  Abelard,  while  the  other  ad- 


104 


NOMINALISM  AND  REALISM. 


hered  to  the  principles  of  Aristotle.  Of  these  sects,  the  former 
are  known  in  literary  history  by  the  name  of  the  Nominalists , 
the  latter,  by  that  of  the  Realists. 

As  it  is  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Nominalists  that  my  own 
opinion  on  this  subject  coincides,  and  as  I propose  to  deduce 
from  it  some  consequences,  which  appear  to  me  important,  I 
shall  endeavor  to  state  it  as  clearly  and  precisely  as  I am  able, 
pursuing,  however,  rather  the  train  of  my  own  thoughts,  than 
guided  by  the  reasons  of  any  particular  author. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Nominalists  stated  and  defended.  — I for- 
merly explained  in  what  manner  the  words,  which,  in  the  infancy 
of  language,  were  proper  names,  became  gradually  appellatives ; 
in  consequence  of  which  extension  of  their  signification,  they 
would  express,  when  applied  to  individuals,  those  qualities  only 
which  are  common  to  the  whole  genus.  Now,  it  is  evident, 
that,  with  respect  to  individuals  of  the  same  genus,  there  are 
two  classes  of  truths  ; the  one,  particular  truths  relating  to  each 
individual  apart,  and  deduced  from  a consideration  of  its  pecu- 
liar and  distinguishing  properties ; the  other,  general  truths,  de- 
duced from  a consideration  of  their  common  qualities,  and 
equally  applicable  to  all  of  them.  Such  truths  may  be  conven- 
iently expressed  by  means  of  general  terms ; so  as  to  form 
propositions,  comprehending  under  them  as  many  particular 
truths,  as  there  are  individuals  comprehended  under  the  general 
terms.  It  is  further  evident,  that  there  are  two  ways  in  which 
such  general  truths  may  he  obtained ; either  hy  fixing  the  attention 
on  one  individitcd,  in  such  a manner  that  our  reasoning  may  in- 
volve no  circumstances  hut  those  which  are  common  to  the  whole 
genus  ; or,. (laying  aside  entirely  the  consideration  of  things,)  hy 
means  of  the  general  terms  with  tvhich  language  supplies  us.  In 
either  of  these  cases,  our  investigations  must  necessarily  lead  us 
to  general  conclusions.  In  the  first  case,  our  attention  being 
limited  to  those  circumstances,  in  which  the  subject  of  our  rea- 
soning resembles  all  other  individuals  of  the  same  genus,  what- 
ever we  demonstrate  with  respect  to  this  subject  must  be  true 
of  every  other  to  which  the  same  attributes  belong.  In  the  sec- 
ond ease,  the  subject  of  our  reasoning  being  expressed  by  a 


NOMINALISM  AND  REALISM. 


105 


generic  word,  which  applies  in  common  to  a number  of  individ- 
uals, the  conclusion  we  form  must  be  as  extensive  in  its  appli- 
cation, as  the  name  of  the  subject  is  in  its  meaning.  The  for- 
mer process  is  analogous  to  the  practice  of  geometers,  who,  in 
their  most  general  reasonings,  direct  the  attention  to  a particu- 
lar diagram ; the  latter,  to  that  of  algebraists,  who  carry  on  their 
investigations  by  means  of  symbols.*  In  cases  of  this  last  sort, 
it  may  frequently  happen,  from  the  association  of  ideas,  that  a 
general  word  may  recall  some  one  individual  to  which  it  is  appli- 
cable : but  this  is  so  far  from  being  necessary  to  the  accuracy  of 
our  reasoning,  that,  excepting  in  some  cases,  in  which  it  may 
be  useful  to  check  us  in  the  abuse  of  general  terms,  it  always 
has  a tendency,  more  or  less,  to  mislead  us  from  the  truth.  As 
the  decision  of  a judge  must  necessarily  be  impartial,  when  he 
is  only  acquainted  with  the  relations  in  which  the  parties  stand 
to  each  other,  and  when  their  names  are  supplied  by  letters  of 
the  alphabet,  or  by  the  fictitious  names  of  Titus,  Caius,  and 
Sempronius ; so,  in  every  process  of  reasoning,  the  conclusion 
we  form  is  most  likely  to  be  logically  just,  when  the  attention  is 
confined  solely  to  signs ; and  when  the  imagination  does  not 
present  to  it  those  individual  objects,  which  may  warp  the  judg- 
ment by  casual  associations. 

To  these  remarks,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  add,  that,  al- 
though m our  speculations  concerning  individuals,  it  is  possible 
to  carry  on  processes  of  reasoning  by  fixing  our  attention  on 
the  objects  themselves,  without  the  use  of  language ; yet  it  is 
also  in  our  power  to  accomplish  the  same  end,  by  substituting 


* These  two  methods  of  obtaining  general  truths  proceed  on  the  same 
principles,  and  are,  in  fact,  much  less  different  from  each  other,  than  they 
appear  to  be  at  first  view.  When  we  carry  on  a process  of  general  reason- 
ing by  fixing  our  attention  on  a particular  individual  of  a genus,  this  in- 
dividual is  to  be  considered  merely  as  a sign  or  representative,  and  differs 
from  any  other  sign  only  in  this,  that  it  bears  a certain  resemblance  to  the 
things  it  denotes.  The  straight  lines,  which  are  employed  in  the  fifth  hook 
of  Euclid  to  represent  magnitudes  in  general,  differ  from  the  algebraical 
expressions  of  these  magnitudes  in  the  same  respects  in  which  picture- 
writing  differs  from  arbitrary  characters. 


106 


NOMINALISM  AND  KEALISM. 


for  these  objects,  ■words,  or  other  arbitrary  signs.  The  differ- 
ence between  the  employment  of  language  in  such  cases,  aad  in 
our  speculations  concerning  classes  or  genera,  is,  that  in  the  for- 
mer case,  the  use  of  words  is,  in  a great  measure,  optional ; 
whereas,  in  the  latter,  it  is  essentially  necessary.  This  obser- 
vation deserves  our  attention  the  more,  that,  if  I am  not  mistak- 
en, it  has  contributed  to  mislead  some  of  the  Realists,  by  giving 
rise  to  an  idea,  that  the  use  of  language,  in  thinking  about  uni- 
Amrsals,  however  convenient,  is  not  more  necessary  than  in 
thinking  about  individuals. 

According  to  this  view  of  the  process  of  the  mind,  in  carrying 
on  general  speculations,  that  idea,  which  the  ancient  philoso- 
phers considered  as  the  essence  of  an  individual,  is  nothing 
more  than  the  particular  quality  or  qualities  in  which  it  resem- 
bles other  individuals  of  the  same  class ; and  in  consequence  of 
which,  a generic  name  is  applied  to  it.  It  is  the  possession  of 
this  quality,  that  entitles  the  individual  to  the  generic  appella- 
tion, and  which,  therefore,  may  be  said  to  be  essential  to  its 
classification  with  that  particular  genus ; but  as  all  classifica- 
tions are  to  a certain  degree  arbitrary,  it  does  not  necessarily 
folloAv,  that  it  is  more  essential  to  its  existence  as  an  individual, 
than  various  other  qualities  which  we  are  accustomed  to  regard 
as  accidental.  In  other  words,  (if  I may  borrow  the  language 
of  modern  philosophy,)  this  quality  forms  its  nominal,  but  not 
its  real  essence. 

These  observations  will,  I trust,  be  sufficient  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  such  of  my  readers  as  are  at  all  conversant  with  philo- 
sophical inquiries.  For  the  sake  of  others,  to  whom  this  disqui- 
sition may  be  new,  I have  added  the  following  illustrations. 

All  reasoning  may  take  place  hy  symbols,  or  arbitrary  signs, 
alone.  — I shall  have  occasion  to  examine,  in  another  part  of 
my  Avork,  how  far  it  is  true,  (as  is  commonly  believed,)  that 
every  process  of  reasoning  may  be  resolved  into  a series  of  syl- 
logisms ; and  to  point  out  some  limitations,  Avith  Avhich,  I appre- 
hend, it  is  necessary  that  this  opinion  should  be  I’eceived.  As 
it  would  lead  me,  however,  too  far  from  my  present  subject,  to 
anticipate  any  part  of  the  doctrine  which  I am  then  to  propose, 


NOSHNALISM  AND  REALISM. 


107 


1 shall,  in  the  following  remarks,  proceed  on  the  supj,  osition, 
that  the  syllogistic  theory  is  well  founded ; a supposition  which, 
although  not  strictly  agreeable  to  truth,  is  yet  sufficiently  accu- 
rate for  the  use  which  I am  now  to  make  of  it.  Take,  then,  any 
step  of  one  of  Euclid’s  demonstrations ; for  example,  the  first 
step  of  his  first  proposition,  and  state  it  in  the  form  of  a syllo- 
gism. “ All  straight  lines,  drawn  from  the  centre  of  a circle  to 
the  circumference,  are  equal  to  one  another.”  “ But  A B,  and 
C D,  are  straight  lines  drawn  from  the  centre  of  a circle  to  the 
circumference.  Therefore,  A B is  equal  to  C D.”  It  is  per- 
fectly manifest,  that,  in  order  to  feel  the  force  of  this  conclusion, 
it  is  by  no  means  necessary,  that  I should  annex  any  particular 
notions  to  the  letters  A B,  or  C D,  or  that  I should  comprehend 
what  is  meant  by  equality,  or  by  a circle,  its  centre,  and  its  cir- 
cumference. Every  person  must  be  satisfied,  that  the  truth  of 
the  conclusion  is  necessarily  implied  in  that  of  the  two  premises, 
whatever  the  particular  things  may  be  to  which  these  premises 
may  relate.  In  the  following  syllogism,  too : “ All  men  must 
die ; Peter  is  a man ; therefore  Peter  must  die ; ” the  evi- 
dence of  the  conclusion  does  not  in  the  least  depend  on  the  par- 
ticular notions  I annex  to  the  words  man  and  Peter ; but  would 
be  equally  complete,  if  we  were  to  substitute,  instead  of  them, 
two  letters  of  the  alphabet,  or  any  other  insignificant  characters. 
“ All  X’s  must  die  ; Z is  an  X ; therefore  Z must  die  ; ” — is 
a syllogism  which  forces  the  assent  no  less  than  the  fomier. 
If  is  further  obvious,  that  this  syllogism  would  be  equally  con- 
clusive, if,  instead  of  the  word  die,  I were  to  substitute  any 
other  verb  that  the  language  contains ; and,  that,  in  order  to 
perceive  the  justness  of  the  inference,  it  is  not  even  necessary 
tliat  I should  understand  its  meaning. 

In  general,  it  might  be  easily  shown,  that  all  the  rules  of 
logic  with  respect  to  syllogisms,  might  be  demonstrated,  without 
having  recourse  to  any  thing  but  letters  of  the  alphabet ; in  the 
same  manner,  (and  I may  add,  on  the  very  same  principles,)  on 
which  the  algebraist  demonstrates,  by  means  of  these  letters, 
the  various  rules  for  ti’ansposing  the  terms  of  an  equation. 

F rom  what  has  been  said,  it  follows,  that  the  assent  we  give 


108 


NOMINALISM  AND  REALISM. 


to  tlie  conclusion  of  a syllogism  does  not  result  from  any  exam- 
ination of  the  notions  expressed  l>y  the  ditferent  propositions  of 
wliicli  it  is  composed,  l)ut  is  an  immediate  consequence  of  the 
relations  in  i\diich  the  words  stand  to  each  other.  The  truth  is, 
that  in  every  syllogism,  the  inference  is  only  a particular  in- 
stance of  the  general  axiom,  that  whatever  is  true  universally 
of  any  sign,  must  also  he  true  of  every  individual  which  that 
sign  can  be  employed  to  express.  Admitting,  therefore,  that 
every  process  of  reasoning  may  be  resolved  mto  a series  of  syl- 
logisms, it  follows,  that  this  operation  of  the  mind  furnishes  no 
proof  of  the  existence  of  any  thing  corresponding  to  general 
terms,  distinct  from  the  individuals  to  which  these  terms  are 
applicable. 

These  remarks,  I am  very  sensible,  do,  by  no  means,  exhaust 
the  subject ; for  there  are  various  modes  of  reasoning,  to  which 
the  syllogistic  theory  does  not  apply.  But,  in  all  of  them,  with- 
out excejition,  it  will  be  found  on  examination,  that  the  evidence 
of  our  conclusions  appears  immediately  from  the  consideration 
of  the  words  in  which  the  premises  are  expressed ; without  any 
reference  to  the  things  which  they  denote.  The  imperfect  ac- 
count which  is  given  of  deductive  evidence,  in  the  received  sys- 
tems of  logic,  makes  it  impossible  for  me,  in  this  place,  to  pros- 
ecute the  subject  any  further. 

After  all  I have  said  on  the  use  of  language  as  an  instrument 
of  reasoning,  I can  easily  foresee  a variety  of  objections,  which 
may  occur  to  the  doctrine  I have  been  endeavoring  to  establish. 
But  without  entering  into  a particular  examination  of  these  ob- 
jections, I believe  I may  venture  to  affirm,  that  most,  if  not  all, 
of  them  take  their  rise  from  confounding  reasoning,  or  deduc- 
tion, properly  so  called,  with  certain  other  intellectual  processes, 
which  it  is  necessary  for  us  to  employ  in  the  investigation  of 
truth.  That  it  frequently  of  essential  importance  to  us,  in  our 
speculations,  to  withdraw  our  attention  from  words,  and  to  direct 
it  to  the  things  they  denote,  I am  very  ready  to  acknowledge. 
All  that  I assert  is,  that,  in  so  far  as  our  speculations  consist  of 
that  pi  ocess  of  the  mind  which  is  properly  called  reasoning,  they 
may  he  carried  on  by  words  alone  ; or,  which  comes  tp  the  same 


NOMINALISM  AND  REALISM. 


109 


thing,  that  every  process  of  reasoning  is  perfectly  analogous  to 
an  algebraical  operation.  What  I mean  by  “ the  other  intel- 
lectual processes  distinct  from  reasoning,  which  it  is  necessary 
for  us  sometimes  to  employ  in  the  investigation  of  truth,”  will,  I 
hope,  appear  clearly  from  the  following  remarks. 

Mental  operations  subsidiary  to  reasoning.  — In  cdgebraical 
investigations,  it  is  well  known,  that  the  practical  application  of 
a general  expression  is  frequently  limited  by  the  conditions 
which  the  hypothesis  involves ; and  that,  in  consequence  of  a 
want  of  attention  to  this  circumstance,  some  mathematicians  of 
the  first  eminence  have  been  led  to  adopt  the  most  paradoxical 
and  absurd  conclusions.  Without  this  cautious  exei’cise  of  the 
judgment  in  the  interpretation  of  the  algebraical  language,  no 
dexterity  in  the  use  of  the  calculus  "will  be  sufficient  to  preserve 
us  from  error.  Even  in  algebra,  therefore,  there  is  an  applica- 
tion of  the  intellectual  powers  perfectly  distinct  from  any  pro- 
cess of  reasoning,  and  which  is  absolutely  necessary  for  con- 
ducting us  to  the  truth. 

In  Geometry,  we  are  not  liable  to  adopt  the  same  paradoxical 
conclusions,  as  in  algebra ; because  the  diagrams,  to  which  our 
attention  is  directed,  serve  as  a continual  check  on  our  reason- 
ing powers.  These  diagrams  exhibit,  to  our  very  senses,  a va- 
riety of  relations  among  the  quantities  under  consideration, 
which  the  language  of  algebra  is  too  general  to  express ; in  con- 
sequence of  which,  we  are  not  conscious  of  any  effort  of  the 
judgment  distinct  from  a process  of  reasoning.  As  eveiy  geo- 
metrical investigation,  however,  may  be  expressed  algebraically, 
it  is  manifest,  that  in  geometry,  as  well  as  in  algebra,  there  is  an 
exercise  of  the  intellectual  powers,  distinct  fi-om  the  logical  pro- 
cess ; although,  in  the  former  science,  it  is  rendered  so  easy,  by 
the  use  of  diagrams,  as  to  escape  our  attention. 

The  same  source  of  error  and  of  absurdity,  which  exists  in 
algebra,  is  to  be  found,  in  a much  greater  degree,  in  the  other 
branches  of  knowledge.  Abstracting  entirely  from  the  ambig- 
uity of  language,  and  supposing  also  our  reasonings  to  be  logi- 
cally accurate,  it  would  still  be  necessary  for  us,  from  time  to 
time,  in  all  our  speculations,  to  lay  aside  the  use  of  words,  and  to 

10 


no 


NOMINAI.ISM  AND  REALISM. 


hm:c  rpcovrse  fn  pcniioilni-  examples  or  illustrations,  in  order  to 
rorrert  and  to  limit  our  general  conclusions.  To  a want  of  at- 
lontioii  to  this  oiirunistanco,  a nnniher  of  the  speculative  ab- 
surdities which  are  current  in  the  world  might,  T am  persuaded, 
be  easily  traced. 

Besides,  however,  this  source  of  error,  wliich  is  in  some  de- 
gree common  to  all  the  sciences,  there  is  a great  variety  of 
others,  from  which  mathematics  are  entirely  exempted ; and 
which  perpetually  tend  to  lead  us  astray  in  our  philosophical 
inquiries.  Of  these,  the  most  important  is,  that  ambiguity  in  the 
signification  of  words,  which  renders  it  so  difficult  to  avoid  em- 
ploying the  same  expressions  in  different  senses,  in  the  course 
of  the  same  process  of  reasoning.  This  source  of  mistake,  in- 
deed, is  apt,  in  a much  greater  degree,  to  affect  our  conclusions 
in  metaphysics,  morals,  and  politics,  than  in  the  different  branches 
of  natural  jdiilosophy ; but  if  we  except  mathematics,  there  is 
no  science,  whatever,  in  which  it  has  not  a very  sensible  influ- 
ence. In  algebra,  we  may  proceed  with  perfect  safety  through 
the  longest  investigations,  without  cariying  our  attention  beyond 
the  signs,  till  we  arrive  at  the  last  result.  But  in  the  other  sci- 
ences, excepting  in  those  cases  in  which  we  have  fixed  the 
meaning  of  all  our  terms  by  accurate  definitions,  and  have  ren- 
dered the  use  of  these  terms  perfectly  familiar  to  us  by  very 
long  habit,  it  is  but  seldom  that  we  can  proceed  in  this  manner, 
without  danger  of  error.  In  many  cases,  it  is  necessary  for  us 
to  keep  up,  during  the  whole  of  our  investigations,  a scrupulous 
and  constant  attention  to  the  signification  of  our  expressions ; 
and  in  most  cases,  this  caution  in  the  use  of  words  is  a much 
more  difficult  effort  of  the  mind,  than  the  logical  process.  But 
still  this  furnishes  no  exception  to  the  general  doctrine  already 
delivered  ; for  the  attention  we  find  it  necessaiy  to  give  to  the 
import  of  our  words  arises  only  from  the  accidental  circum 
stance  of  their  ambiguity,  and  has  no  essential  connection  with 
that  process  of  the  mind  which  is  properly  called  reasoning  ; and 
which  consists  in  the  inference  of  a conclusion  from  premises. 
In  all  the  sciences,  this  process  of  the  mind  is  perfectly  analo- 
gous to  an  algebraical  operation  ; or,  in  other  words,  (when  the 


ABSTKACIIOX. 


Ill 


meaning  of  our  expressions  is  once  fixed  by  definitions,)  it  may 
be  carried  on  entirely  by  the  use  of  signs,  without  attending, 
during  the  time  of  the  process,  to  the  things  signified. 

The  conclusion  to  which  the  foregoing  observations  lead,  ap- 
pears to  me  to  be  decisive  of  the  question,  with  respect  to  the  ob- 
jects of  our  thoughts  when  we  employ  general  terms ; for  if  it  be 
granted,  that  words,  even  when  employed  without  any  reference 
to  their  particular  signification,  form  an  instrument  of  thought 
sufficient  for  all  the  purposes  of  reasoning ; the  only  shadow 
of  an  argument  in  proof  of  the  common  doctrine  on  the  subject, 
(I  mean  that  which  is  founded  on  the  impossibility  of  explain- 
ing this  process  of  the  mind  on  any  other  hypothesis,)  falls  to 
the  ground.  Nothing  less,  surely,  than  a conviction  of  this  im- 
possibility, could  have  so  long  reconciled  philosophers  to  an 
hypothesis  unsuppoi'ted  by  any  direct  evidence ; and  acknowl- 
edged, even  by  its  warmest  defenders,  to  involve  much  difficulty 
and  mystery. 

Uses  of  illustrated  and  abstract  reasoning.  — It  does  not  fall 
within  my  plan  to  enter,  in  this  part  of  my  work,  into  a par- 
ticular consideration  of  the  practical  consequences  which  follow 
from  the  foregoing  doctrine.  I cannot,  however,  help  remark- 
ing the  importance  of  cultivating,  on  the  one  hand,  a talent  for 
ready  and  various  illustration ; and,  on  the  other,  a habit  of  rea- 
soning by  means  of  general  terms.  The  former  talent  is  neces- 
sary, not  only  for  correcting  and  limiting  our  general  conclu- 
sions, but  for  enabling  us  to  apply  our  knowledge,  when  occasion 
requires,  to  its  real  practical  use.  The  latter  serves  the  double 
purpose,  of  preventing  our  attention  from  being  distracted  dur- 
ing the  course  of  our  reasonings,  by  ideas  which  are  foreign  to 
the  point  in  question,  and  of  diverting  the  attention  from  those 
conceptions  of  particular  objects  and  particular  events  which 
might  disturb  the  judgment,  by  the  ideas  and  feelings  which  are 
apt  to  be  associated  with  them,  in  consequence  of  our  own  cas- 
ual experience. 

This  last  observation  points  out  to  us,  also,  one  principal 
foundation  of  the  art  of  the  orator.  As  his  object  is  not  so  much 
to  inform  and  satisfy  the  understandings  of  his  hearers,  as  to 


112 


ABbTKACTION. 


fol’ce  their  immediate  assent ; it  is  frequently  of  use  to  him  to 
clothe  his  reasonings  in  that  specific  and  figurative  language, 
■which  may  either  awaken  in  their  minds  associations  favorable 
to  his  purpose,  or  may  divert  their  attention  from  a logical  ex- 
amination of  his  argument.  A process  of  reasoning  so  ex- 
pressed, affords  at  once  an  exercise  to  the  judgment,  to  the 
imagination,  and  to  the  passions ; and  is  apt,  even  when  loose 
and  inconsequential,  to  impose  on  the  best  undei’standings. 

It  ap])ears  further,  from  the  remarks  which  have  been  made, 
that  the  perfection  of  philosophical  language,  considered  either 
as  an  instrument  of  thought,  or  as  a medium  of  communication 
with  others,  consists  in  the  use  of  expressions,  which,  from  their 
generality,  have  no  tendency  to  awaken  the  powers  of  concep- 
tion and  imagination ; or,  in  other  words,  it  consists  in  its  ap- 
proaching, as  nearly  as  possible,  in  its  nature,  to  the  language 
of  algebra.  And  hence  the  effects  which  long  habits  of  philo- 
sophical speculation  have  in  weakening,  by  disuse,  those  facul- 
ties of  the  mind,  winch  are  necessary  for  the  exertions  of  the 
poet  and  the  orator  ; and  of  gradually  forming  a style  of  compo- 
sition, which  they  who  read  merely  for  amusement,  are  apt  to 
censure  for  a want  of  vivacity  and  of  ornament.* 

lU.  Remarks  on  the  opinions  of  some  modern  philosophers  on 
the  subject  of  the  foregoing  section.  — After  the  death  of  Abe- 
lard, through  whose  abilities  and  eloquence  the  sect  of  Nominal- 
ists had  enjoyed,  for  a few  years,  a very  splendid  triumph,  the 
system  of  the  Realists  began  to  revive  ; and  it  was  soon  so  com- 
pletely reestablished  in  the  schools,  as  to  prevail,  with  little  or 
no  opposition,  till  the  fourteenth  century.  What  the  circum- 


* “ Language,  like  light,  is  a medium  : and  the  true  philosophical  style, 
like  light  from  a north  -window,  exhibits  objects  clearly  and  distinctly 
without  soliciting  attention  to  itself.  In  painting  subjects  of  amusement 
indeed,  language  may  gild  somewhat  more,  and  color  with  the  dyes  of 
fancy ; but  where  information  is  of  more  importance  than  entertainment, 
though  you  cannot  throw  too  strong  a light,  you  should  carefully  avoid  a 
colored  one.  The  style  of ‘some  writers  resembles  a bright  light  placed  bC' 
tween  the  eye,  and  the  thing  to  be  looked  at.  The  light  shows  itself,  and 
hides  the  object.” — Gilpin. 


ABSTRACTION. 


113 


stances  -were,  wliich  led  philosophers  to  abandon  a doctrine, 
which  seems  so  strongly  to  recommend  itself  by  its  simplicity, 
it  is  not  very  easy  to  conceive.  Probably  the  heretical  opin- 
ions, which  had  subjected  both  Abelard  and  Eoscelinus  to  the 
censure  of  the  Church,  might  create  a prejudice  also  against 
their  philosophical  principles  ; and  probably,  too,  the  manner  in 
which  these  principles  were  stated  and  defended  was  not  the 
clearest,  nor  the  most  satisfactory.  The  principal  cause,  how- 
ever, I am  disposed  to  think,  of  the  decline  of  the  sect  of  Nom- 
inalists, was  their  want  of  some  palpable  example,  by  means  of 
which  they  might  illustrate  their  doctrine.  It  is  by  the  use 
which  algebraists  make  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  in  carry- 
ing on  their  operations,  that  Leibnitz  and  Berkeley  have  been 
most  successful  in  explaining  the  use  of  language  as  an  instru- 
ment of  thought : and,  as  in  the  twelfth  century,  the  algebraical 
art  was  entirely  unknown,  Eoscehnus  and  Abelard  must  have 
been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  conveying  their  leading  idea 
by  general  circumlocutions ; and  must  have  found  considerable 
difficulty  in  stating  it  in  a manner  satisfactory  to  themselves  ; a 
consideration,  which,  if  it  accounts  for  the  slow  progress  which 
this  doctrine  made  in  the  world,  places  in  the  more  striking  light 
the  genius  of  those  men  whose  sagacity  led  them,  under  so 
great  disadvantages,  to  approach  to  a conclusion  so  just  and 
philosophical  in  itself,  and  so  opposite  to  the  prevailing  opinions 
of  their  age. 

In  the  fourteenth  century,  this  sect  seems  to  have  been 
almost  completely  extinct ; their  doctrine  being  equally  repro- 
bated by  the  two  great  parties  which  then  divided  the  schools, 
the  followers  of  Duns  Scotus  and  of  Thomas  Aquinas.  These, 
although  they  differed  in  their  manner  of  explaining  the  nature 
of  universals,  and  opposed  each  other’s  opinions  with  much  as- 
perity, yet  united  in  rejecting  the  doctrine  of  the  Nominalists, 
not  only  as  absurd,  but  as  leading  to  the  most  dangerous  conse- 
quences. At  last,  William  Occam,  a native  of  England,  and  a 
scholar  of  Duns  Scotus,  revived  the  ancient  controversy,  and, 
with  equal  ability  and  success,  vindicated  the  long-abandoned 
philosophy  of  Eoscelinus.  From  this  time  the  dispute  was  car- 

10  * 


1J4 


ABSTRACTION. 


ricd  on  ivitli  great  warmth  in  the  universities  of  France,  of  Gei’- 
inanj,  and  of  England,  more  particularly  in  the  two  former  coun- 
tries, whei’e  the  sovereigns  were  led,  by  some  political  views,  to 
interest  themselves  deeply  in  the  contest,  and  even  to  employ 
tlie  civil  power  in  supporting  their  favorite  opinions.  The  Em- 
peror Lewis  of  Bavaria,  in  return  for  the  assistance  which,  in 
his  disputes  with  the  Pope,  Occam  had  given  to  him  by  his 
writings,  sided  with  the  Nominalists.  Lewis  the  Eleventh  of 
France,  on  the  other  hand,  attached  himself  to  the  Realists,  and 
made  their  antagonists  the  objects  of  a cruel  persecution. 

The  dispute  to  which  the  foregoing  observations  relate,  al- 
though, for  some  time  after  the  Reformation,  interrupted  by  the- 
ological disquisitions,  has  been  since  occasionally  revived  by 
different  writers,  and,  singular  as  it  may  appear,  it  has  not  yet 
been  brought  to  a conclusion  in  which  all  parties  are  agreed. 
The  names,  indeed,  of  Nominalists  and  Realists  exist  no  longer : 
but  the  point  in  dispute  between  these  two  celebrated  sects, 
coincides  precisely  wdth  a question  which  has  been  agitated  in 
our  own  times,  and  which  has  led  to  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
speculations  of  modern  philosophy 

Doctrines  and  conclusions  of  the  later  Nominalists.  — Of  the 
advocates  who  have  appeared  for  the  doctrine  of  the  Nominal- 
ists, since  the  revival  of  letters,  the  most  distinguished  are 
Hobbes,  Berkeley,  and  Hume.  The  first  has,  in  various  parts 
•of  his  works,  reprobated  the  hypothesis  of  the  Realists,  and 
has  stated  the  opinions  of  their  antagonists  with  that  acuteness, 
simplicity,  and  precision,  which  distinguish  all  his  writings.* 


* “ The  universality  of  one  name  to  many  things,  hath  been  the  cause 
that  men  think  the  things  themselves  are  universal ; and  so  seriously  con- 
tend, that,  besides  Peter  and  Jolm,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  men  that  are, 
have  been,  or  shall  be,  in  the  world,  there  is  yet  something  else  that  we 
call  man,  namely,  Man  in  general;  deceiving  themselves,  by  taking  the 
universal  or  general  appellation  for  the  thing  it  signifieth.  For  if  one 
should  desire  the  painter  to  make  him  the  picture  of  a man,  which  is  as 
much  as  to  say,  of  a man  in  general,  he  mcaneth  no  more  but  that  the 
painter  should  choose  what  man  he  pleasclh  to  draw,  which  must  needs 
be  some  of  them  that  are,  or  have  been,  or  may  be  : none  of  which  are  uni- 
versal. But  when  we  would  1 ave  him  to  draw  the  picture  of  the  king,  or 


ABSTKACTIOX. 


115 


The  second,  considering  (and,  in  my  opinion,  justly)  the  doc- 
tiiues  of  the  ancients  concerning  universals,  in  support  of  which 
so  much  ingenuity  had  been  employed  by  the  Realists,  as  the 
great  source  of  mystery  and  error  in  the  abstract  sciences,  was 
at  pains  to  overthrow  it  completely,  by  some  very  ingel^ious  and 
original  speculations  of  his  own.  Mr.  Hume’s* *  view  on  the 
subject,  as  he  himself  acknowledges,  does  hot  differ  materially 
from  that  of  Berkeley ; whom,  by  the  way,  he  seems  to  have 
regarded  as  the  author  of  an  opinion,  of  which  he  was  only  an 
expositor  and  defender,  and  which,  since  the  days  of  Roscelinus 
and  Abelard,  has  been  familiarly  known  in  aU  the  universities 
of  Europe. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  great  merit  of  these  writers  in 
defending  and  illustrating  the  system  of  the  Nominalists,  none 
of  them  seem  to  me  to  have  been  fully  aware  of  the  important 
consequences  to  which  it  leads.  The  Abbe  de  Condillac  was,  I 
believe,  the  first  (if  we  except,  perhaps,  Leibnitz),  who  per- 
ceived that,  if  this  system  be  true,  a talent  for  reasoning  must 
consist,  in  a great  measure,  in  a skilful  use  of  language  as  an 
instrument  of  thought.  The  most  valuable  of  his  remarks  on 
this  subject  are  contained  in  a treatise.  On  the  Art  of  Thinking, 
which  forms  the  fourth  volume  of  his  “ Course  of  Study.” 


any  particular  person,  he  limiteth  the  painter  to  that  one  person  he  choos- 
eth.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  there  is  nothing  universal  but  names,  which  are 
therefore  called  indefinite,  because  we  limit  them  not  ourselves,  but  leave 
them  to  be  applied  by  the  hearer ; whereas  a singular  name  is  limited  and 
restrained  to  one  of  the  many  things  it  signifieth ; as  when  we  say,  this 
man,  pointing  to  him,  or  giving  him  his  proper  name,  or  by  some  such 
other  way.”  — Hobbes’s  Tripos,  chap.  v.  sect.  6. 

* “ A very  material  question  has  been  started  concerning  abstract  or 
general  ideas.  Whether  they  be  general  or  particular  in  the  mind’s  con- 
ception of  them  ■?  A great  philosopher  has  disputed  the  received  opinion 
in  this  particular ; and  has  asserted,  that  all  general  ideas  are  nothing  but 
particular  ones  annexed  to  a certain  term,  which  gives  them  a more  exten- 
sive signification,  and  makes  them  recall,  upon  occasion,  other  individuals, 
which  are  similar  to  them.  As  I look  irpon  tliis  to  be  one  of  the  greatest 
and  most  valuable  discoveries  that  have  been  made  of  late  years  in  the  re- 
public of  letters,  I shall  here  endeavor  to  confirm  it  by  some  arguments, 
which  I hope  will  put  it  beyond  all  doubt  and  controversy.”  — Treatise  of 
Human  Nature,  Book  i.  part  i.  sect.  7. 


116 


ABSTRACTION. 


Refutation  of  Dr.  Price’s  arguments.  — The  explanation 
which  the  doctrines  of  these  writers  afford,  of  the  process  of  t!;e 
mind  in  general  reasoning,  is  so  simple,  and  at  the  same  time, 
in  my  apprehension,  so  satisfactory,  that  I own  it  is  with  some 
degree  of ‘surprise  I have  read  the  attempts  which  have  lately 
been  made  to  revive  the  systems  of  the  Realists.  One  of  the 
ablest  of  these  attempts  is  by  Dr.  Price,  who,  in  his  very  valua- 
ble “ Treatise  on  Morals,”  has  not  only  employed  his  ingenuity 
in  support  of  some  of  the  old  tenets  of  the  Platonic  school,  but 
has  even  gone  so  far  as  to  follow  Plato’s  example,  in  connecting 
this  speculation  about  universals  with  the  sublime  questions  of 
natural  theology.  The  observations  which  he  has  offered  in 
support  of  these  opinions,  I have  repeatedly  perused  with  all 
the  attention  in  my  power,  but  without  being  able  to  enter  into 
his  views,  or  even  to  comprehend  fully  his  meaning.  Indeed,  I 
must  acknowledge  that  it  appears  to  me  to  afford  no  slight  pre- 
sumption against  the  principles  on  which  he  proceeds,  when  I 
observe,  that  an  author,  remarkable,  on  most  occasions,  for  pre- 
cision of  ideas  and  for  perspicuity  of  style,  never  fails  to  lose 
himself  in  obscurity  and  mystery  when  he  enters  on  these  dis- 
quisitions. 

Dr.  Price’s  reasonings  in  proof  of  the  existence  of  univer- 
sals, are  the  more  curious,  as  he  acquiesces  in  some  of  Dr. 
Reid’s  conclusions  with  respect  to  the  ideal  theory  of  percep- 
tion. That  there  are,  in  the  mind,  images  or  resemblances  of 
things  external,  he  grants  to  be  impossible ; but  still  he  seems 
to  siqipose,  that  in  every  exertion  of  thought,  there  is  something 
immediately  present  to  the  mind,  which  is  the  object  of  its  atten- 
tion. “ When  abstract  truth  is  contemplated,  is  not,”  says  he, 
“ the  very  object  itself  present  to  the  mind  ? When  millions  of 
intellects  contemplate  the  equality  of  every  angle  in  a semicircle 
to  a right  angle,  have  they  not  all  the  same  object  in  view  ? Is 
this  object  nothing  ? or  is  it  only  an  image,  or  kind  of  shadow  ? 
These  inquiries,”  he  adds,  “ carry  our  thoughts  high.”  * 


* The  wliole  passage  is  as  follows  : “ The  word  idea  is  sometimes  used 
to  signify  tlie  immediate  object  of  the  mind  in  thinking,  considered  a* 


ABSTEACTION. 


117 


The  difficulty  which  has  appeared  so  puzzling  to  this  ingeji- 
ious  writer,  is,  in  truth,  more  apparent  than  real.  In  the  case 
of  perception,  imagination,  and  memory,  it  has  been  already 
fuUy  shown,  that  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  the  existence  of 
any  thing  in  the  mind  distinct  from  the  mind  itself;  and  that, 
even  upon  the  supposition  that  the  fact  were  otherwise,  our  in- 
tellectual operations  would  be  just  as  inexplicable  as  they  are 
, at  present.  Why  then  should  we  suppose,  that  in  our  general 
speculations,  there  must  exist  in  the  mind  some  object  of  its 
thoughts,  when  it  appears  that  there  is  no  evidence  of  the  ex- 
istence of  any  such  object,  even  when  the  mind  is  employed 
about  individuals  ? 

How  we  reason  about  classes  of  objects.  — Still,  however,  it 
may  be  urged,  that  although,  in  such  cases,  there  should  be  no 
object  of  thought  in  the  mind,  there  must  exist  something  or 
other  to  which  its  attention  is  directed.  To  this  difficulty  I 
have  no  answer  to  make,  but  by  repeating  the  fact  wffiich  I 
have  ah’eady  endeavored  to  establish  ; that  there  are  only  two 
ways  in  which  we  can  possibly  speculate  about  classes  of  ob- 
jects ; the  one,  by  means  of  a word  or  generic  term  ; the  other, 
by  means  of  one  particidar  individual  of  the  class  which  we  con- 
sider as  the  representative  of  the  rest ; and  that  these  two  methods 
of  carrying  on  our  general  speculations,  are  at  bottom  so  much  the 


something  in  the  mind  which  represents  the  real  object,  hut  is  different 
from  it.  This  sense  of  an  idea  is  derived  from  the  notion,  that  when  we 
think  of  any  external  existence,  there  is  something  immediately  present  to 
the  mind,  witich  it  contemplates  distinct  from  the  object  itself,  that  being 
at  a distance.  But  what  is  this  % It  is  bad  language  to  call  it  an  image 
in  the  mind  of  the  object.  Shall  we  say  then,  that  there  is  indeed  no  Such 
thing  I But  would  not  this  be  the  same  as  to  say  that,  when  the  mind  is 
employed  in  viewing  and  examining  any  object,  which  is  either  not  pres- 
ent to  it,  or  does  not  exist,  it  is  employed  in  viewing  and  examining 
nothing,  and  therefore  does  not  then  think  at  all  1 When  abstract  truth  is 
contemplated,  is  not  the  very  object  itself  present  to  tlie  mind  1 When 
millions  of  intellects  contemplate  tJie  equality  of  every  angle  in  a semicir- 
cle to  a right  angle,  have  they  not  all  the  same  object  in  view  1 Is  this 
object  nothing  I or  is  it  only  an  image,  or  kind  of  shadow  1 These  inqui- 
ries  carry  our  thoughts  high.” 


118 


ABSTRACTION. 


same,  as  to  authoi’ize  us  to  lay  down  as  a principle,  that,  with* 
out  the  use  of  signs,  all  our  thoughts  must  have  related  to  indi- 
viduals. When  we  reason,  therefore,  concerning  classes  or  gen- 
eva, the  objects  of  our  attention  are  merely  signs ; or  if,  in  any 
instance,  the  generic  word  should  recall  some  individual,  this 
circumstance  is  to  he  regarded  only  as  the  consequence  of  an 
accidental  association,  which  has  rather  a tendency  to  disturb, 
than  to  assist  us  in  our  reasoning. 

Whether  it  might  not  have  been  jjossible  for  the  Deity  to 
have  so  formed  us,  that  we  might  have  been  capable  of  reason- 
ing concerning  classes  of  objects,  without  the  use  of  signs,  I 
shall  not  take  upon  me  to  determine.  But  this  we  may  venture 
to  alBrm  with  confidence,  that  man  is  not  such  a being.  And, 
indeed,  even  if  he  were,  it  woidd  not  therefore  necessarily  fol- 
low, that  there  exists  any  thing  in  a genus,  distinct  from  the 
individuals  of  which  it  is  composed ; for  we  know  that  the 
power  which  we  have  of  thinking  of  particular  objects  without 
the  medium  of  signs,  does  not  in  the  least  depend  on  their  ex 
istence  or  non-existence  at  the  moment  we  think  of  them. 

It  would  be  vain,  however,  for  us,  in  inquiries  of  this  nature, 
to  indulge  ourselves  in  speculating  about  possibilities.  It  is  of 
more  consequence  to  remai’k  the  advantages  which  we  derive 
from  our  actual  constitution,  and  which,  in  the  present  instance, 
appear  to  me  to  be  important  and  admirable  ; inasmuch  as  it 
fits  mankind  for  an  easy  interchange  of  their  intellectual  acqui- 
sitions, by  imposing  on  them  the  necessity  of  employing,  in  their 
solitary  speculations,  the  same  instrument  of  thought,  which 
forms  the  established  medium  of  their  communications  with  each 
other.* 


* [See  note  to  page  77. 

It  must  be  admitted,  that,  in  other  passages  of  his  philosophical  writ- 
ings, Stewart  does  not  seem  to  be  always  mindful  of  the  doctrine  which  he 
has  here  labored  to  establish.  Take  the  following,  for  instance,  from  “Note 
Q”  to  the  First  Part  of  his  Dissertation  on  the  Progress  of  Metaphysical 
PhilC/Sophy.  In  answer  to  a remark  by  Bonnet,  that  ]>rivation  of  one  of  the 
senses  entails  a loss  of  all  the  ideas  usually  obtained  through  that  sense,  he 
says,  “ The  question  is  not  about  our  ideas  of  the  material  world,  but  about 


ABSTRACTION. 


119 


The  doctrine  of  the  Conceptualists.  — In  the  very  slight  sketch 
which  I have  given  of  the  controversy  between  the  Nominalists 


those  ideas  on  metaphysical  and  moral  subjects,  which  may  be  equally  im- 
parted to  the  blind  and  the  deaf ; enabling  them  to  arrive  at  a knowledge 
of  the  same  truths,  and  exciting  in  their  minds  the  same  moral  emotions. 
The  signs  employed  in  the  reasonings  of  these  two  classes  of  persons  will 
of  conrse  excite  by  association,  in  their  respective  fancies,  very  ditferent 
material  images ; but  whence  the  origin  of  the  metaphysical  and  moral  no- 
tions of  which  these  signs  are  the  vehicle,  and  for  suggesting  which,  all  sets 
of  signs  seem  to  be  equally  fitted  1 ” 

What  are  these  “ notions,”  expressly  refen-ed,  not  to  material,  but  to 
metaphysical  or  moral,  objects,  which  are  here  clearly  distinguished  from 
the  “siyns,”  or  mere  words,  that  are  used  to  indicate  them  1 As  a strict 
Nominalist,  and  yet  as  a vigorous  opponent  of  philosophical  skepticism, 
Stewart  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  answer  this  question.  In  truth, 
when  we  speak  of  cause,  time,  space,  substance,  etc.,  no  one  but  a skeptic  can 
maintain  that  either  mere  words,  or  specific  material  things,  are  the  ob- 
jects of  our  thoughts. 

On  the  Other  side,  we  present  an  extract  from  the  argument  of  Bishop 
Berkeley,  who  is  among  the  ablest  and  most  consistent  of  the  modern 
Nominalists. 

“ It  is  thought  that  every  name  hath,  or  ought  to  have,  one  only  precise 
and  settled  signification,  which  inclines  men  to  think  that  there  are  certain 
abstract  determinate  ideas,  which  constitute  the  true  and  only  immediate 
signification  of  each  general  name  ; and  that  it  is  by  the  mediation  of  these 
abstract  ideas,  that  a general  name  comes  to  signify  any  particular  thing. 
Whereas,  in  truth,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  one  precise  and  definite  significa- 
tion annexed  to  any  general  name,  they  all  signifying  indifferently  a great 

number  of  particclar  ideas To  this  it  will  be  objected,  that  evety 

name  that  has  a definition,  is  thereby  restrained  to  one  certain  Significa- 
tion. For  example,  a triangle  is  defined  to  be ‘a  plain  surface  compre- 
hended by  three  right  lines.’  To  which  I answer,  that  in  the  definition  it 
is  not  said  whether  the  surface  be  great  or  small,  black  or  white,  nor 
whether  the  sides  are  long  or  short,  equal  or  unequal,  nor  with  what  an- 
gles they  are  inclined  to  each  other: — in  all  which  there  may  be  great  va- 
riety, and  consequently  there  is  no  one  settled  idea  which  limits  the  signifi- 
cation of  the  word  triangle.  It  is  one  thing  to  keep  a name  constantly  to 
the  same  definition,  and  another  to  make  it  stand  everywhere  for  the  same 
idea ; the  one  is  necessary,  the  other  useless  and  impracticable. 

“ But  to  give  a further  account  how  words  came  to  produce  the  doctrine 
of  abstract  ideas,  it  must  be  observed  that  it  is  a received  opinion,  that  lan- 
guage has  no  other  end  but  the  communicating  our  ideas,  and  that  every 


120 


ABSTRACTION. 


and  the  Kealists  about  the  existence  of  universals,  I have  taken 
no  notice  of  the  intermediate  sect  called  Conceptualists ; whose 


significant  name  stands  for  an  idea.  This  being  so,  and  it  being  withal 
certain  tliat  names,  which  yet  are  not  thought  altogether  insignificant,  do 
not  always  mark  out  particular  conceivable  ideas,  it  is  straightway  con- 
cluded that  they  stand  for  abstract  notions.  That  there  are  many  names 
in  use  amongst  speculative  men,  which  do  not  always  suggest  to  others 
determinate  particular  ideas,  is  what  nobody  will  deny.  And  a little  atten- 
tion will  discover,  that  it  is  not  necessary  (even  in  the  strictest  reasonings) 
significant  names  which  stand  for  ideas  should,  every  time  they  are  used, 
excite  in  the  understanding  the  ideas  they  are  made  to  stand  for  ; in  read- 
ing and  discoursing,  names  being,  for  the  most  part,  used  as  letters  are  in 
algebra,  in  which,  though  a particular  quantity  be  marked  by  each  letter, 
yet,  to  proceed  right,  it  is  not  requisite  that  in  every  step  each  letter  suggest 
to  your  thoughts  that  particular  quantity  it  was  appointed  to  stand  for. 

“ Besides,  the  communicating  of  ideas  marked  by  words  is  not  the  chief 
and  only  end  of  language,  as  is  commonly  supposed.  There  are  other 
ends,  as  the  raising  of  some  passion,  the  exciting  to  or  deterring  from  an 
action,  the  putting  the  mind  in  some  particular  disposition,  to  which  the 
former  is  in  many  cases  barely  subservient,  and  sometimes  entirely  omit- 
ted, when  these  can  be  obtained  without  it,  as  I think  doth  not  unfre- 
quently  happen  in  the  familiar  use  of  language.  I entreat  the  reader  to 
reflect  with  himself,  and  see  if  it  doth  not  often  happen,  either  in  hearing 
or  reading  a discoiu'se,  that  the  passions  of  fear,  love,  hatred,  admiration, 
disdain,  and  the  like,  arise  immediately  in  his  mind  upon  the  perception  of 
ceVtain  words,  without  any  ideas  coming  between.  At  first,  indeed,  the 
words  might  h.ave  occasioned  ideas  that  were  fit  to  produce  those  emo- 
tions ; but  if  I mistake  not,  it  will  be  found  that  when  language  has  once 
grown  familiar,  the  hearing  of  the  sounds  or  sight  of  the  characters  is  oft 
immediately  attended  with  those  passions,  which  at  first  were  wont  to  be 
produced  by  the  intervention  of  ideas  that  are  now  quite  omitted.  May 
we  not,  for  example,  be  alfected  with  the  promise  of  a good  thing,  though 
we  have  not  an  idea  of  what  it  is  ■?  Or  is  not  the  being  threatened  with 
danger  sufficient  to  excite  a dread,  thougli  we  think  not  of  any  particular 
evil  likely  to  befall  us,  nor  yet  frame  to  ourselves  an  abstract  1 If  anyone 
.shall  join  ever  so  little  reflection  of  his  own  to  what  has  been  said,  I be- 
lieve it  will  evidently  appear  to  him,  that  general  names  are  often  used  in 
the  projiriety  of  language  without  the  speaker’s  designing  them  for  marks 
of  ideas  of  his  own,  wliich  he  would  have  them  raise  in  the  mind  of  the 
hearer.  Even  proper  names  themselves  do  not  seem  always  spoken  with 
a design  to  bring  iuro  our  view  the  ideas  of  those  individuals  that  are  .sup- 
posed to  be,  marked  l>y  tliem.  For  exam])lc,  when  a schoolman  tolls  me 


ABSTRACTION. 


121 


distinguishing  tenet  is  said  to  have  been,  that  the  mind  has  a 
power  of  forming  general  conceptions.  From  the  indistinctness 
and  inaccuracy  of  their  language  on  the  subject,  it  is  not  a very 
easy  matter  to  ascertain  precisely  what  was  their  opinion  on  the 
■point  in  question ; but  on  the  whole,  I am  inclined  to  think  that 
it  amounted  to  the  two  following  propositions : first,  that  we 
have  no  reason  to  believe  the  existence  of  any  essences,  or  uni- 
versal ideas,  corresponding  to  general  terms  ; and  secondly,  that 
the  mind  has  the  power  of  reasoning  concerning  genera  or 
classes  of  individuals,  without  the  mediation  of  language.  In- 
deed, I cannot  think  of  any  other  hypothesis  which  it  is  possible 
to  -form  on  the  subject,  distinct  from  those  of  the  two  celebrated 
sects  ah’eady  mentioned.  In  denying  the  existence  of  univer 
sals,  we  know  that  the  Conceptualists  agreed  with  the  Nominal- 
ists. In  what,  then,  can  we  suppose  that  they  differed  from 
them,  but  about  the  necessity  of  language  as  an  instrument  of 
thought,  in  carrying  on  our  general  speculations  ?  *  * 


Aristotle  hath  said  it,  all  I conceive  he  means  by  it,  is,  to  dispose  me  to  em- 
brace bis  opinion  with  the  deference  and  submission  which  custom  has 
annexed  to  that  name.”  — Introduction  to  the  Principles  of  Human  Knowl- 
edge, §§  XVIII-XX. 

* [It  is  hardly  fair  to  charge  the  doctrine  of  the  Conceptualists  with 
obscurity  or  indefniteness,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  its  foundation  ia 
truth.  Its  meaning  is  obvious  enough.  'Whenever  we  use  a general  term, 
as  animal,  house,  triangle,  the  Conceptualists  maintain  that  our  object  of 
thought  is  something  more  definite  than  a mere  word,  but  less  definite  thau 
such  a precise  idea  as  we  have  of  a particular  house  or  triangle ; — it  must  be 
thus  less  definite,  inasmuch  as  it  is  equally  applicable  to  any  house  or 
tilangle  whatsoever,  be  it  large  or  small  — black,  white,  or  green.  They 
affirm,  that  this  object  of  thought  is  a conception  of  such  properties  only  as  are 
common  to  all  triangles,  or  to  all  houses.  Such  a conception,  they  say,  is 
possible ; it  is  merely  a partial  consideration  of  an  object.  Thus,  I may 
think  of  a three-sided  figure  simply,  without  considering  what  it  is  made  of, 
or  whether  it  be  large  or  small.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Nominalists  main- 
tain that  I cannot  think  an  object,  without  thereby  imaging  it  to  the  fancy, 
and  thus  individualizing  it,  or  rendering  it  particular  instead  of  general. 

Perhaps  both  parties  are  right.  Some  general  ideas,  (those,  namely,  of 
a low  order  of  generalization,]  may  be  thought  of,  without  the  aid  of  words. 
Thus,  I may  have  a very  clear  conception  of  a yellow  globe,  six  inches  in 

11 


122 


ABSTRACTION. 


"With  this  sect  of  Conceptualists,  Dr.  Reid  is  disposed  to  rank 
]\Ir.  Locke;  and  I agree  witii  him  so  far  as  to  tliiiik,  that,  if 
Locke  hiu^l  any  decided  opinion  on  the  point  in  dispute,  it  did 
not  differ  materially  from  what  I have  endeavored  to  express 
in  the  two  genei'al  propositions  which  I have  just  now  stated. 
The  apparent  inconsistencies  which  occur  in  that  jiart  of  his 
Essay  in  which  the  question  is  discussed,  have  led  subsequent 
authors  to  represent  his  sentiments  in  different  lights ; but  as 
these  inconsistencies  plainly  show,  that  he  was  neither  satisfied 
with  the  system  of  the  Realists,  nor  with  that  of  the  Nominal- 
ists, they  appear  to  me  to  demonstrate,  that  he  leaned  to  the 
intermediate  hypothesis  already  mentioned,  notwithstanding 
the  inaccurate  and  paradoxical  manner  in  which  he  has  ex- 
pressed it. 

Dr.  Reid's  opinion  on  this  subject.  — May  I take  the  liberty 
of  adding,  that  Dr.  Reid’s  own  opinion  seems  to  me  also  to  coin- 
cide nearly  with  that  of  the  Conceptualists ; or,  at  least,  to  coin- 
cide with  the  two  propositions  which  I have  already  supposed 


diameler,  witliout  thinking  of  it  as  hard  or  soft,  hot  or  cold,  heavy  or  light, 
or  as  made  of  jdaster,  iron,  wood,  pasteboard,  india-rubber,  or  any  other 
material.  So,  also,  1 may  think  of  a star,  without  thinking  of  any  partic- 
ular star,  as  Sirius  or  Arcturus.  On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  very  obvious 
that  general  terms  of  a very  high  order  of  generalization,  such  as  thing,  object, 
principle,  etc.,  cannot  have  any  object  of  thought  corresponding  to  them  ex- 
cept mere  words  ; and  the  only  way  to  apprehend  the  meaning  of  such 
words  is  to  call  up  in  the  mind  one  or  more  individuals  of  the  class  denoted 
by  them,  and,  in  the  consideration  of  these  individuals,  to  limit  our  atten- 
tion as  for  as  possible  to  those  qualities  only  which  they  possess  in  com- 
mon with  their  class.  The  Nominalists  and  Conceptualists  would  differ 
from  each  other  only  in  determining  the  point  on  the  scale  of  generaliza- 
tion at  wliich  the  power  of  forming  general  conceptions  ends,  and  the  ne- 
cessity of  using  words  begins  ; or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  in  determining 
what,  and  how  many,  qualities  may  be  abstracted,  before  the  general  idea 
evanesces  into  a mere  word.  If  all  men  were  of  the  same  size  and  com- 
plexion, I could  certainly  form  the  general  conception  of  a man.  But  it 
is  still  disputed  whether  color  or  size  can  be  abstracted  from  any  class  of 
material  objects  without  destroying  the  general  conception  of  that  class 
It  a])pear.s  certain  that  wc  can  form  a distinct  conception  of  breadtldess  lines 
as  in  geometry.] 


ABSTRACTION. 


123 


to  contain  a summary  of  their  doctrine  ? The  absurdity  of  the 
ancient  opinion  concerning  universals,  as  maintained  both  by 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  he  has  exposed  by  the  clearest  and  most 
decisive  arguments ; not  to  mention,  that,  by  his  own  very  orig- 
inal and  important  speculations  concerning  the  ideal  theory,  he 
has  completely  destroyed  that  natural  prejudice  from  which  the 
whole  system  of  universal  ideas  gradually  took  I’ise.  If,  even 
in  the  case  of  individuals,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  the  ex- 
istence of  any  object  of  thought  in  the  mind,  distinct  from  the 
mind  itself,  we  are  at  once  relieved  from  all  the  difSculties  in 
which  philosophers  have  involved  themselves,  by  attempting  to 
explain,  in  consistency  with  that  ancient  hypothesis,  the  process 
of  the  mind  in  its  general  speculations. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  no  less  clear,  from  Dr.  Reid’s  criti- 
cisms on  Berkeley  and  Hume,  that  his  opinion  does  not  coincide 
with  that  of  the  Nominalists ; and  that  the  power  which  the 
mind  possesses  of  reasoning  concerning  classes  of  objects,  ap- 
peal’s to  him  to  imply  some  faculty,  of  which  no  notice  is  taken 
in  the  systems  of  these  philosophers. 

In  order  to  justify  his  own  expressions  concerning  universals, 
and  in  opposition  to  the  language  of  Berkeley  and  Hume,  Dr. 
Reid  is  at  pains  to  illustrate  a distinction  between  conception 
and  imagination,  which,  he  thinks,  has  not  been  sufficiently 
attended  to  by  philosophers.  “ A universal,”  says  he,  “ is  not 
an  object  of  any  external  sense,  and  therefore  cannot  be  imag 
ined;  but  it  may  be  distinctly  conceived.  When  Mr.  Pope  says, 
‘The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man,’  I conceive  his  meaning 
distinctly;  although  I neither  imagine  a black  or  a white,  a 
crooked  or  a straight  man.  I can  conceive  a thing  that  is  impos- 
sible ; but  I cannot  distinctly  imagine  a thing  that  is  impossible ; 
I can  conceive  a proposition  or  a demonstration,  but  I cannot 
imagine  either.  I can  conceive  understanding  and  will,  virtue 
and  vice,  and  other  attributes  of  the  mind  ; but  I cannot  imagine 
them.  In  like  manner,  I can  distinctly  conceive  universals ; but 
I cannot  imagine  them.” 

It  appears  from  this  passage,  that,  hy  conceiving  univermh, 
Dr.  Reid  means  nothing  more  than  understanding  the  meaning 


124 


ABSTRACTION. 


of  propositions  involving  general  terms.  But  the  observations 
he  has  made,  (admitting  them  in  their  full  extent,)  do  not  in  the 
least  affect  the  question  about  the  necessity  of  signs,  to  enable 
us  to  speculate  about  such  propositions.  The  vague  use  which 
metaphysical  writers  have  made  of  the  word  conception,  (of 
which  I had  occasion  to  take  notice  in  a former  chapter,)  has 
contributed  in  part  to  embaiTass  this  subject.  That  we  cannot 
conceive  universals  in  a M'ay  at  all  analogous  to  that  in  which 
we  conceive  an  absent  object  of  sense,  is  granted  on  both  sides. 
Why  then  should  we  employ  the  same  word,  conception,  to  ex 
press  two  operations  of  the  mind  which  are  essentially  different  ? 
When  we  speak  of  conceiving  or  understanding  a general  propo- 
sition, we  mean  nothing  more  than  that  we  have  a conviction, 
(founded  on  our  previous  use  of  the  words  in  which  it  is  ex- 
pressed,) that  we  have  it  in  our  power,  at  pleasure,  to  substitute, 
instead  of  the  general  terms,  some  one  of  the  individuals  compre- 
hended under  them.  When  we  hear  a proposition  announced, 
of  which  the  terms  are  not  familiar  to  us,  we  naturally  desire  to 
have  it  exemplified,  or  illustrated,  by  means  of  some  particular 
instance ; and  when  we  are  once  satisfied  by  such  an  applica- 
tion, that  we  have  the  interpretation  of  the  proposition  at  aU 
times  in  our  power,  we  make  no  scruple  to- say,  that  we  con- 
ceive or  understand  its  meaning,  although  we  should  not  extend 
our  views  beyond  the  words  in  which  it  is  announced,  or  even 
although  no  particular  exemplification  of  it  should  occur  to  us  at 
the  moment.  It  is  in  this  sense  only,  that  the  terms  of  any  gen- 
eral proposition  can  possibly  be  understood  ; and  therefore  Dr. 
Reid’s  argument  does  not,  in  the  least,  invalidate  the  doctrine 
of  the  Nominalists,  that,  without  the  use  of  language,  (under 
which  term  I comprehend  every  species  of  signs,)  we  should 
never  have  been  able  to  extend  our  speculations  beyond  indi- 
viduals. 

That  in  many  cases,  we  may  safely  employ  in  our  rr.asonings 
general  terms,  the  meaning  of  which  we  are  not  even  able  to 
interpret  in  this  way,  and  consequently,  which  are  to  ns  wholly 
insignificant,  I had  occasion  already  to  demonstrate,  k.  a former 
part  of  this  section. 


ABSTEACTIOX. 


125 


IV.  Inferences  with  respect  to  the  use  of  language  as  an  instru- 
ment of  thought,  and  the  errors  in  reasoning  to  which  it  occa- 
sionally gives  rise.  — In  the  last  section,  I mentioned  Dr.  Camp- 
bell as  an  ingenious  defender  of  the  system  of  the  Nominalists ; 
and  I alluded  to  a particular  application  which  he  has  made  of 
their  doctrine.  The  reasonings  which  I had  then  in  view,  are 
to  be  found  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  second  book  of  his 
Philosophy  of  Rhetoric ; in  which  chapter,  he  proposes  to  ex- 
plain how  it  happens,  “ that  nonsense  so  often  escapes  being  de- 
tected, both  by  the  writer  and  the  reader.”  The  title  is  some- 
what ludicrous  in  a grave  and  philosophical  work ; but  the  dis- 
quisition to  which  it  is  prefixed  contains  many  acute  and  pro- 
found remarks  on  the  nature  and  power  of  signs,  both  as  a me- 
dium of  communication,  and  as  an  instrument  of  thought. 

Dr.  Campbell’s  speculations  with  respect  to  language  as  an 
instrument  of  thought,  seem  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  fol- 
lowing passage  in  Mr.  Hume’s  Treatise  of  Human  Nature.  “ I 
believe,  every  one  who  examines  the  situation  of  his  mind  in 
reasoning  will  agree  with  me,  that  we  do  not  annex  distinct  and 
complete  ideas  to  every  term  we  make  use  of ; and  that  in  talk- 
ing of  government,  church,  negotiation,  conquest,  we  seldom 
spread  out  in  our  minds  all  the  simple  ideas  of  which  these 
complex  ones  are  composed.  It  is,  however,  observable,  that 
notwithstanding  this  imperfection,  we  may  avoid  talking  non- 
sense on  these  subjects  ; and  may  perceive  any  repugnance 
among  the  ideas,  as  well  as  if  we  had  a full  comprehension  of 
them.  Thus  if,  instead  of  saying,  that,  in  war,  the  weaker  have 
always  recourse  to  negotiation,  we  should  say,  that  they  have 
always  recourse  to  conquest;  the  custom  which  we  have  ac- 
quired, of  attributing  certain  relations  to  ideas,  still  follows  the 
words,  and  makes  us  immediately  perceive  the  absurdity  of  that 
proposition.” 

How  we  can  use  words  luith  propriety,  though  without  attach- 
ing any  particular  idea  or  signif  cation  to  them.  — In  the  re- 
marks which  Dr.  Campbell  has  made  on  this  passage,  he  has 
endeavored  to  explain  in  what  manner  our  habits  of  thinking 

11  * 


126 


ABSTRACTION. 


and  speaking  gradually  establish  in  the  mind  such  relations 
among  the  words  we  employ,  as  enable  us  to  carry  on  processes 
of  reasoning  by  means  of  them,  without  attending  in  every  in- 
stance to  their  particular  signification.  With  most  of  his  re- 
marks on  this  subject  I perfectly  agree  ; but  the  illustrations  he 
gives  of  them,  are  of  too  great  extent  to  be  introduced  here ; 
and  I would  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  impairing  their  perspi- 
cuity, by  attempting  to  abridge  them.  I must,  therefore,  refer 
such  of  my  readers  as  wish  to  prosecute  the  speculation,  to  his 
very  ingenious  and  philosophical  treatise. 

“ In  consequence  of  these  circumstances,”  says  Dr.  Campbell, 
“ it  happens  that,  in  matters  which  are  perfectly  familiar  to  us, 
we  are  able  to  reason  by  means  of  words,  without  examining, 
in  every  instance,  their  signification.  Almost  all  the  possible 
applications  of  the  terms  (in  other  words,  all  the  acquired  rela- 
tions of  the  signs,)  have  become  customary  to  us.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  an  unusual  application  of  any  term  is  instantly 
detected;  this  detection  breeds  doubt,  and  this  doubt  occasions 
an  immediate  recourse  to  ideas.  The  recourse  of  the  mind, 
when  in  any  degree  puzzled  with  the  signs,  to  the  knowledge  it 
has  of  the  things  signified,  is  natural,  and  of  such  subjects  per- 
fectly easy.  And  on  this  recourse,  the  discoveiy  of  the  mean- 
ing, or  of  the  unmeaningness,  of  what  is  said,  is  the  immediate 
effect.  But  in  matters  that  are  by  no  means  familiar,  or  are 
treated  in  an  uncommon  manner,  and  in  such  as  are  of  an  ab- 
struse and  intricate  nature,  the  case  is  widely  different.”  The 
instances  in  which  we  are  chiefly  liable  to  be  imposed  on  by 
Avords  without  meaning  are,  (according  to  Dr.  Campbell,)  the 
three  following : — 

First,  Where  there  is  an  exuberance  of  metaphor. 

Secondly,  When  the  terms  most  frequently  occurring  denote 
things  which  are  of  a complicated  nature,  and  to  which  the 
mind  is  not  sufficiently  familiarized.  Such  are  the  words,  gov- 
ernment, church,  state,  constitution,  polity,  power,  commerce, 
legislature,  jurisdiction,  proportion,  symmetry,  elegance. 

Thirdly,  When  the  terms  employed  are  very  abstract,  and 


ABSTRACTION. 


127 


consequently  of  very  extensive  signification.*  For  an  illustra- 
tion of  these  remarks,  I must  refer  the  reader  to  the  ingenious 
work  which  I just  now  quoted. 

To  the  observations  of  these  eminent  writers,  I shall  take 
the  liberty  of  adding,  that  we  are  doubly  liable  to  the  mistakes 
they  mention,  when  we  make  use  of  a language  wliich  is  not 
perfectly  familiar  to  us.  Nothing,  indeed,  I apprehend,  can 
show  more  clearly  the  use  we  make  of  words  in  reasoning  than 
this,  that  an  observation  which,  when  expressed  in  our  own 
language,  seems  trite  or  frivolous,  often  acquires  the  appear- 
ance of  depth  and  originality,  by  being  translated  into  another. 
For  my  own  part,  at  least,  I am  conscious  of  having  been 
frequently  led,  in  this  way,  to  form  an  exaggerated  idea  of  the 
merits  of  ancient  and  of  foreign  authors ; and  it  has  happened 
to  me  more  than  once,  that  a sentence,  which  seemed  at  tii-st  to 
contain  something  highly  ingenious  and  profound,  when  trans- 
lated into  words  familiar  to  me,  appeared  obviously  to  be  a trite 
or  a nugatory  proposition. 

The  effect  produced  by  an  artificial  and  inverted  style  in  our 
own  language,  is  similar  to  what  we  experience  when  we  read 
a composition  in  a foreign  one.  The  eye  is  too  much  dazzled 
to  see  distinctly. 

The  deranged  collocation  of  the  words  in  Latin  composition, 
aids  powerfully  the  imposition  we  have  now  been  considering, 
and  renders  that  language  an  inconvenient  medium  of  philo- 
sophical communication,  as  well  as  an  inconvenient  instrument 
of  accurate  thought.  Indeed,  in  all  languages  in  which  this 


* “ The  more  general  any  word  is  in  its  signification,  it  is  the  more  lia- 
ble to  be  abused  by  an  improper  and  unmeaning  application.  A very  gen- 
eral term  is  applicable  alike  to  a multitude  of  different  individuals,  a par- 
ticular term  is  applicable  but  to  a few.  When  the  rightful  applications  of 
a word  are  extremely  numerous,  they  cannot  all  be  so  strongly  fixed  by 
habit,  but,  that,  for  greater  security,  we  must  perpetually  recur  in  our 
minds  from  the  sign  to  the  notion  we  have  of  the  thing  signified  ; and,  for 
the  reason  aforementioned,  it  is  in  such  instances  difficult  precisely  to  as- 
certain this  notion.  Thus,  the  latitude  of  a word,  though  different  from 
its  ambiguity,  hath  often  a similar  effect.”  — Philosophy  of  Khetoric,  voL 
ii.  p.  122. 


128 


ABSTKACTION. 


latitude  in  the  aiTangoment  of  words  is  admitted,  the  assoeia- 
tions  among  words  must  he  looser  than  where  one  invariable 
order  is  followed  ; and  of  consequence,  on  the  principles  of 
Hume  and  Campbell,  the  mistakes  which  are  committed  in 
reasonings  expressed  in  such  languages  will  not  be  so  readily 
detected. 

Languages,  being  controlled  by  'popular  tise,  are  not  adapted  for 
scientific  purposes.  — The  errors  in  reasoning  to  which  we  are 
exposed,  in  consequence  of  the  use  of  words  as  an  instrument 
of  thought,  will  appear  the  less  surprising,  when  we  consider 
that  all  the  languages  which  have  hitherto  existed  in  the  world, 
have  derived  their  origin  from  popular  use  ; and  that  their  ap- 
plication to  philosophical  purposes  was  altogether  out  of  the 
view  of  those  men  who  first  employed  them.  Whether  it  might 
not  be  possible  to  invent  a language  which  would  at  once  facili- 
tate philosophical  communication,  and  form  a more  convenient 
instrument  of  reasoning  and  of  invention  than  those  we  possess 
at  present,  is  a question  of  very  difficult  discussion,  and  upon 
which  I shall  not  presume  to  offer  an  opinion.  The  failure  of 
Wilkins’s  very  ingenious  attempt  towards  a real  character  and  a 
philosophical  language,  is  not  perhaps  decisive  against  such  a 
ju’oject ; for  not  to  mention  some  radical  defects  in  his  plan,  the 
views  of  that  very  eminent  philosopher  do  not  seem  to  have  ex- 
tended much  further  than  to  promote  and  extend  the  literary 
intercourse  among  diffei’ent  nations.  Leibnitz,  so  far  as  I know, 
is  the  only  author  who  has  hitherto  conceived  the  possibility  of 
aiding  the  powers  of  invention  and  of  reasoning,  by  the  use  of  a 
more  convenient  instrument  of  thought:  but  he  has  nowhere 
explained  his  ideas  on  this  very  interesting  subject.  It  is  only 
from  a conversation  of  his  with  Mr.  Boyle  and  Mr.  Oldenburgh, 
when  he  was  in  England,  in  1673,  and  from  some  imperfect 
hints  in  different  parts  of  his  works,  that  we  find  it  had  engaged 
his  attention.  In  the  course  of  this  conversation,  he  observed, 
that  Wilkins  had  mistaken  the  time  end  of  a real  character, 
which  was  not  merely  to  enable  different  nations  to  correspond 
easily  together,  but  to  assist  the  reason,  the  invention,  and  the 
memory.  In  his  writings,  too,  he  somewhere  speaks  of  an  alpha- 


ABSTRACTION. 


129 


bet  of  human  thoughts,  which  he  had  been  employed  in  form- 
ing, and  which,  probably,  (as  Fontenelle  has  remarked,)  had 
some  relation  to  his  universal  language. 

The  new  nomenclature  which  has  been  introduced  into  chem- 
istry, seems  to  me  to  furnish  a striking  illustration  of  the  effect 
of  appropriate  and  well  defined  expressions,  in  aiding  the  intel- 
lectual powers ; and  the  period  is  probably  not  far  distant, 
when  similar  innovations  will  be  attemjited  in  some  of  the  other 
sciences. 

V.  Of  the  purposes  to  which  the  powers  of  Abstraction  and 
Generalization  are  subservient.  — It  has  been  already  shown, 
that,  without  the  use  of  signs,  aU  our  knowledge  must  necessa- 
rily have  been  limited  to  individuals,  and  that  we  should  have 
been  perfectly  incapable  both  of  classification  and  general  rea- 
soning. Some  authors  have  maintained,  that  without  the  power 
of  generahzation,  (which,  I have  endeavored  to  show,  means 
nothing  more  than  the  capacity,  of  employing  general  terms,)  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  us  to  have  carried  on  any  spe- 
cies of  reasoning  whatever.  But  I caimot  help  thinking  that 
this  opinion  is  erroneous ; or,  at  least,  that  it  is  very  imperfectly 
stated.  The  truth  is,  it  appears  to  me  to  be  just  in  one  sense 
of  the  word  reasoning,  but  false  in  another ; and  I even  suspect 
it  is  false  in  that  sense  of  the  word  in  which  it  is  most  commonly 
employed.  Before,  therefore,  it  is  laid  down  as  a general  propo- 
sition, the  meaning  we  are  to  annex  to  this  very  vague  and  am- 
biguous term,  should  be  ascertained  with  jirecision. 

One  kind  of  reasoning  can  be  carried  on  icithout  generaliza- 
tion, and  without  language.  — It  has  been  remarked  by  several 
writers,  that  the  expectation  which  we  feel  of  the  continuance  of 
the  laws  of  nature,  is  not  founded  upon  reasoning ; and  difierent 
theories  have  of  late  been  proposed  to  account  for  its  origin. 
Mr.  Hume  resolves  it  into  the  association  of  ideas.  Dr.  Eeid, 
on  the  other  hand,  maintains,  that  it  is  an  original  principle  of 
! our  constitution,  which  does  not  admit  of  any  explanation ; and 
i which,  therefore,  is  to  be  ranked  among  those  general  and  ulti- 
1 mate  facts,  beyond  which  philosophy  is  unable  to  proceed, 
i Without  this  principle  of  expectation,  it  would  be  impossible 


I 


130 


ABSTltACTlON. 


for  US  to  accommodate  our  conduct  to  the  established  course  of 
nature ; and,  accordingly,  ere  find  that  it  is  a principle  coeval 
with  our  very  existence,  and,  in  some  measure,  common  to  man 
with  the  lower  animals. 

It  is  an  obvious  consequence  of  this  doctrine,  that,  although 
jdiilosophers  be  accustomed  to  state  what  are  commonly  called 
the  laws  of  nature  in  the  form  of  general  propositions,  it  is  by 
no  means  necessary  for  the  j^ractical  purposes  of  life,  that  we 
should  express  them  in  this  manner,  or  even  that  we  should  ex- 
press them  in  words  at  all.  The  philosopher,  for  example,  may 
state  it  as  a law  of  nature,  that  “ fire  scorches  ; ” or  that  “ heavy 
bodies,  when  unsupported,  fall  downwards ; ” but  long  before 
the  use  of  artificial  signs,  and  even  before  the  dawn  of  reason, 
a child  learns  to  act  upon  both  of  these  suppositions.  In  doing 
so,  it  is  influenced  merely  by  the  instinctive  principle  which  has 
now  been  mentioned,  directed  in  its  operation  (as  is  the  case 
with  many  other  instincts)  by  tlte  experience  of  the  individual. 
If  man,  therefore,  had  been  destined  for  no  other  purposes  than 
to  acquire  such  an  acquaintance  with  the  coui’se  of  nature  as  is 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  his  animal  existence,  he 
might  have  fulfilled  all  the  ends  of  his  being  without  the  use  of 
language. 

O O 

As  we  are  enabled,  by  our  instinctive  anticipation  of  physical 
events,  to  accommodate  our  conduct  to  what  we  foresee  is  to 
hapjDen,  so  we  are  enabled,  in  many  cases,  to  increase  our  jjow- 
er,  by  employing  physical  causes  as  instruments  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  our  purposes ; nay,  we  can  employ  a series  of  such 
causes,  so  as  to  accomplish  very  remote  effects.  We  can  em- 
j)loy  the  agency  of  air,  to  increase  the  heat  of  a furnace ; the 
furnace,  to  render  iron  malleable  ; and  the  iron,  to  all  the  various 
purposes  of  the  mechanical  arts.  Now  it  appears  to  me,  that 
all  this  may  be  conceived  and  done  without  the  aid  of  language ; 
and  yet,  assuredly,  to  discover  a series  of  means  subservient  to 
a particular  end,  or,  in  other  words,  an  effort  of  mechanical  in- 
vention, implies,  according  to  the  common  doctrines  of  philoso- 
phers, the  exercise  of  our  reasoning  2^owers.  In  this  sense, 
therefore,  of  the  word  reasoning,  I am  inclined  to  think,  that  it 


ABSTRACTION. 


131 


is  not  essentially  connected  with  the  faculty  of  generalization,  or 
with  the  use  of  signs. 

It  is  some  confirmation  of  this  conclusion,  that  savages,  whose 
minds  are  almost  wholly  occupied  with  particulars,  and  who 
have  neither  inclination  nor  capacity  for  general  speculations, 
are  yet  occasionally  observed  to  employ  a long  train  of  means 
for  accomplishing  a particular  purpose.  Even  something  of 
this  kind,  but  in  a very  inferior  degree,  may,  I think,  be  re- 
marked in  the  other  animals ; and  that  they  do  not  carry  it  fur- 
ther, is  in’obably  not  the  effect  of  their  want  of  generalization, 
but  of  the  imperfection  of  some  of  those  faculties  which  are  com- 
mon to  them  with  our  species ; particularly  of  their  powers  of 
attention  and  recollection.  The  instances  which  are  commonly 
produced,  to  prove  that  they  are  not  destitute  of  the  power  of 
reasoning,  are  all  examples  of  that  species  of  contrivance  which 
has  been  mentioned ; and  are  perfectly  distinct  from  those  intel- 
lectual processes  to  which  the  use  of  signs  is  essentially  subser- 
vient.* 

As  a further  confirmation  of  the  same  doctrine,  it  may  he  re- 
marked, that  there  is  no  class  of  speculative  men  who  are  in 


* One  of  the  best  attested  instances  which  I have  met  with,  of  sagacity 
in  the  lower  animals,  is  mentioned  by  M.  Bailly,  in  his  “ Lettre  sur  les 
Animaux,”  addressed  to  M.  Le  Koy : — 

[“  One  of  my  friends,  an  intelligent  and  trustworthy  man,  related  to  me 
two  facts  of  which  he  was  an  eye-witness.  He  had  a very  sagacious  mon- 
key, and  was  wont  to  amuse  himself  by  giving  it  nuts,  which  it  was  very 
fond  of ; but  he  placed  them  so  far  off,  that  the  monkey,  being  held  back 
by  its  chain,  could  not  reach  them.  After  many  unsuccessful  efforts, 
which  served  only  to  sharpen  its  invention,  the  monkey,  seeing  a servant 
pass  by  with  a napkin  under  his  arm,  caught  the  napkin  from  him,  and 
made  use  of  it  to  brush  the  nut  within  reach.  The  mode  of  cracking  the 
nut  required  a new  invention ; the  monkey  succeeded  by  placing  the  nut 
on  the  ground,  and  letting  a stone  fall  on  it  from  above,  so  as  to  break  it. 
You  see.  Sir,  that  without  knowing  as  well  as  Galileo  the  laws  of  falling 
bodies,  the  monkey  had  observed  the  force  which  these  bodies  acquire  by 
falling.  But  it  once  happened  that  this  expedient  failed.  One  rainy  day, 
the  ground  was  soft,  and  the  nut  sunk  into  it  without  breaking.  What  did 
the  monkey  do  1 He  found  a piece  of  tile,  on  which  ho  placed  the  nut, ' 
and  then  the  fall  of  the  stone  broke  it,  without  driving  it  into  the  ground.’' 


132 


ABSTRACTIOK. 


general  so  much  at  a loss  to  convey  their  ideas  as  men  of  me- 
chanical invention.  This,  I think,  can  only  arise  from  their 
being  accustomed  to  direct  their  attention  immediately  to  the 
subjects  of  their  consideration,  vdthout  the  use  of  signs.  Phi 
losophers  who  speculate  on  questions  which  require  the  employ- 
ment of  words  as  an  instrument  of  thought,  are  seldom  deficient 
in  a facility  of  expression. 

Whether  that  particular  species  of  mechanical  contrivance 
which  has  now  been  mentioned,  and  which  consists  merely  in 
employing  a series  of  physical  causes  to  accomplish  an  effect 
which  we  cannot  produce  immediately,  should  or  should  not  be 
dignified  with  the  name  of  reasoning,  I shall  not  now  inquire.  It 
is  sufficient  for  my  present  purpose  to  remark,  that  it  is  essen- 
tially different  from  those  intellectual  processes  to  which  the  use 
of  signs  is  indispensably  necessary.  At  the  same  time,  I am 
ready  to  acknowledge,  that  what  I have  now  said,  is  not  strictly 
applicable  to  those  more  complicated  mechanical  inventions,  in 
which  a variety  of  powers  are  made  to  conspire  at  once  to  pro- 
duce a particular  effect.  Such  contrivances,  perhaps,  may  be 
found  to  involve  processes  of  the  mind  which  cannot  be  carried 
on  without  signs.  But  these  questions  will  fall  more  properly 
under  our  consideration  when  we  enter  on  the  subject  of  rea- 
soning. 

When  words  are  necessary  to  thought.  — In  general,  it  may  be' 
remarked,  that  in  so  far  as  our  thoughts  relate  merely  to  indi- 
vidual objects,  or  to  individual  events,  which  we  have  actually 


CWe  need  not  question  the  good  faith  of  the  reporter  of  this  anecdote. 
The  only  doubt  is,  whether  the  animal  had  not  previously,  without  his 
knowledge,  been  taught  how  to  use  these  expedients.)] 

J5ut  admitting  the  facts  to  be  aecurately  stated,  they  will  still  leave  an 
essential  distinction  between  man  and  brutes ; for  in  none  of  the  contri- 
vances here  mentioned,  is  there  any  thing  analogous  to  those  intellectual 
processes  which,  lead  the  mind  to  general  conclusions,  and  which  (accord- 
ing to  the  foregoing  doctrine)  imply  tlie  use  of  general  terms.  Those 
powers,  therefore,  which  enable  us  to  classify  olijects,  and  to  employ  signs 
as  an  instrument  of  thought,  arc,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  peculiar  to  the  hu- 
man species. 


ABSTRACTION. 


133 


perceived,  and  of  which  we  retain  a distinct  remembrance,* 
we  are  not  under  tlie  necessity  of  employing  words.  It  fre- 
quently, however,  happens,  that  when  the  subjects  of  our  con- 
sideration are  particular,  our  reasoning  with  respect  to  them 
may  involve  very  general  notions ; and,  in  such  cases,  although 
we  may  conceive,  without  the  use  of  words,  the  things  about 
which  we  reason,  yet  we  must  necessarily  have  recourse  to  lan- 
guage in  carrying  on  our  speculations  concerning  them.  If  the 
subjects  of  our  reasonings  be  general,  (under  which  description 
I include  all  our  reasonings,  whether  more  or  less  comprehen- 
sive, which  do  not  relate  merely  to  individuals,)  words  are  the 
sole  objects  about  which  our  thoughts  are  employed.  According 
as  these  words  are  comprehensive  or  limited  in  their  signification, 
the  conclusions  we  form  will  be  more  or  less  general ; but  this 
accidental  circumstance  does  not  in  the  least  alFect  the  nature  of 
the  intellectual  process ; so  that  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a propo- 
sition which  holds  without  any  exception,  that  in  every  case  in 
which  we  extend  our  speculations  beyond  individuals,  language 
is  not  only  a useful  auxiliary,  but  is  the  sole  instrument  by 
which  they  are  carried  on. 

Difference  between  the  speculations  of  the  philosopher  and  of  the 


* I have  thought  it  proper  to  add  this  limitation  of  the  general  propo- 
sition, because  individual  objects,  and  individual  events,  which  have  not 
follen  under  the  examination  of  our  senses,  cannot  possibly  be  made  the 
subject  of  our  consideration  but  by  means  of  language.  The  manner  in 
which  we  think  of  such  objects  and  events,  is  accurately  described  in  the 
following  passage  of  Wollaston  ; however  unphilosophical  the  conclusion 
may  be  wliich  he  deduces  from  his  reasoning. 

“ A man  is  not  known  ever  the  more  to  posterity,  because  his  name  is 
transmitted  to  them  ; he  doth  not  live,  because  his  name  does.  When  it 
is  said,  Julius  Coesar  subdued  Gaul,  beat  Pompey,  changed  the  common- 
wealth into  a monarchy,  etc.,  it  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  the  conqueror 
of  Pompey  was  Caesar;  that  is,  Caesar,  and  the  conqueror  of  Pompey,  ai'e 
file  same  tiring ; and  Caesar  is  as  much  known  by  the  one  distinction  as 
the  other.  The  amount  is  only  this  : that  the  conqueror  of  Pompey  con- 
quered Pompey  ; or  somebody  conquered  Pompey ; or  rather,  since  Pom- 
pey is  as  little  known  now  as  Caisar,  somebody  conquered  somebody. 
Such  a poor  business  is  this  boasted  immortality ; and  such,  as  has  been 
here  described,  is  the  thing  called  glory  among  us  ! ” 

12 


]34 


ABSTRACTION. 


vithjar.  — These  remarks  naturally  lead  me  to  take  notice  of  what 
forms  the  characteristieal  distinction  between  the  speculations 
of  the  philosopher  and  of  the  vulgar.  It  is  not,  that  the  former 
is  accustomed  to  carry  on  his  processes  of  reasoning  to  a greater 
extent  than  the  latter  ; but  that  the  conclusions  he  is  accustomed 
to  form,  are  far  more  comprehensive,  in  consequence  of  the 
habitual  employment  of  more  comprehensive  terms.  Among 
the  most  unenlightened  of  mankind,  we  often  meet  with  indi- 
viduals who  possess  the  reasoning  faculty  in  a very  eminent 
degree  ; but  as  this  faculty  is  employed  merely  about  particulars, 
it  never  can  conduct  them  to  genei'al  truths ; and,  of  conse- 
quence, whether  their  pursuits  in  life  lead  them  to  speculation 
or  to  action,  it  can  only  fit  them  for  distinguishing  themselves 
in  some  very  limited  and  subordinate  sphere.  The  philosopher, 
whose  mind  has  been  familiarized  by  education,  and  by  his  own 
reflections,  to  the  correct  use  of  more  comprehensive  terms,  is 
enabled,  without  perhaps  a greater  degree  of  intellectual  exer- 
tion than  is  necessaiy  for  managing  the  details  of  ordinary 
business,  to  arrive  at  general  theorems  ; which,  when  illustrated 
to  the  lower  classes  of  men,  in  their  particular  aijplications, 
seem  to  indicate  a fertility  of  invention  little  short  of  super- 
natural.* 

The  analogy  of  the  algebraical  art  may  be  of  use  in  illus 
trating  these  observations.  The  difference,  in  fact,  between 
the  investigations  we  cany  on  by  its  assistance,  and  other  pro-  j 
cesses  of  reasoning,  is  more  inconsiderable  than  is  commonly 
imagined ; and,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  amounts  only  to  this,  that 


* “ General  reasonings  seem  intricate  merely  because  they  are  general ; 
nor  is  it  easy  for  the  hulk  of  mankind  to  distinguish,  in  a great  number  of 
particulars,  that  common  circumstance  in  which  they  all  agree,  or  to  ex- 
tract it  pure  and  unmixt,  from  the  other  superfluous  circumstances.  Every 
judgment  or  conclusion  with  them  is  particular.  They  cannot  enlarge 
their  view  to  those  universal  propositions,  which  comprehend  under  them 
an  infinite  number  of  individuals,  and  include  a whole  science  in  a single 
theorem.  Their  eye  is  confounded  with  such  an  extensive  prospect ; and 
the  conclusions  derived  from  it,  even  though  clearly  expressed,  seem  intri- 
cate and  obscure.”  — Hume’s  Political  Discourses. 


ABSTRACTION. 


135 


the  former  are  expressed  in  an  appro]iriated  language,  with 
which  we  are  not  accustomed  to  associate  particular  notions. 
Hence  they  exhibit  the  efficacy  of  signs  as  an  instrument  of 
thought  in  a more  distinct  and  palpable  manner,  than  the 
speculations  we  cany  on  by  words,  which  are  continually 
awakening  the  power  of  conception. 

When  the  celebrated  Vieta  showed  algebraists,  that,  by  sub- 
stituting in  their  investigations  letters  of  the  alphabet,  instead 
of  known  quantities,  they  might  render  the  solution  of  every 
problem  subservient  to  the  discovery  of  a general  truth,  he  did 
not  increase  the  difficulty  of  algebraical  reasonings : he  only 
enlarged  the  signification  of  the  terms  of  which  they  were  ex- 
pressed. And  if,  in  teaching  that  science,  it  is  found  expedient 
to  accustom  students  to  solve  problems  by  means  of  the  par- 
ticular numbers  which  are  given,  before  they  are  made  ac- 
quainted with  literal  or  specious  arithmetic,  it  is  not  because 
the  former  processes  are  less  intricate  than  the  latter,  but  be- 
cause their  scope  and  utility  are  more  obvious,  and  because  it 
is  more  easy  to  illustrate,  by  example  than  by  words,  the  differ- 
ence between  a particular  conclusion  and  a general  theorem. 

The  difference  between  the  intellectual  processes  of  the 
vulgar  and  of  the  philosopher,  is  perfectly  analogous  to  that  be- 
tween the  two  states  of  the  algebraical  art  before  and  after  the 
time  of  Vieta  ; the  general  terms  which  are  used  in  the  various 
sciences,  giving  to  those  who  can  employ  them  with  correctness 
and  dexterity,  the  same  sort  of  advantage  over  the  uncultivated 
sagacity  of  the  bulk  of  mankind,  which  the  expert  algebraist 
possesses  over  the  arithmetical  accountant. 

The  utility  of  language.  — If  the  foregoing  doctrine  be  ad- 
mitted as  just,  it  exhibits  a view  of  the  utility  of  language, 
which  appears  to  me  to  be  peculiarly  striking  and  beautiful ; as 
it  shows  that  the  same  faculties  which,  without  the  use  of  signs, 
must  necessarily  have  been  limited  to  the  consideration  of  indi- 
vidual objects  and  particular  events,  are,  by  means  of  signs, 
fitted  to  embrace,  without  effort,  those  comprehensive  theorems, 
to  the  discovery  of  which,  in  detail,  the  united  efforts  of  the 
whole  human  race  would  have  been  unequal.  The  advantage 


13G 


ABSTRACTION. 


oiir  animal  strength  acquires  by  the  use  of  mechanical  engines, 
exhibits  but  a faint  image  of  that  increase  of  our  intellectual 
capacity  which  we  owe  to  language.  It  is  this  increase  of  our 
natural  powers  of  comprehension,  which  seems  to  be  the  prin- 
cipal foundation  of  the  pleasure  we  receive  from  the  discovery 
of  general  theorems.  Such  a discovery  gives  us  at  once  the 
command  of  an  infinite  variety  of  particular  truths,  and  com- 
municates to  the  mind  a sentiment  of  its  own  power,  not  unlike 
to  what  we  feel  when  we  contemiilate  the  magnitude  of  those 
physical  effects,  of  which  w'e  have  acquired  the  command  by 
our  mechanical  contrivances. 

It  may  perhaps  appear,  at  first,  to  be  a further  consequence 
of  the  principles  I have  been  endeavoring  to  establish,  that  the 
difficulty  of  philosophical  discoveries  is  much  less  than  is  com- 
monly imagined ; but  the  truth  is,  it  only  follows  from  them, 
that  this  difficulty  is  of  a different  nature  from  what  we  are  apt 
to  suppose,  on  a superficial  view  of  the  subject.  To  employ, 
with  skiU,  the  very  delicate  instrument  which  nature  has  made 
essentially  subservient  to  general  reasoning,  and  to  guard 
against  the  errors  which  result  from  an  injudicious  use  of  it, 
require  an  uncommon  capacity  of  patient  attention,  and  a 
cautious  circumspection  in  conducting  our  various  intellectual 
processes,  w'hich  can  only  be  acquired  by  early  habits  of  philo- 
sophical reflection.  To  assist  and  direct  us  in  making  this  ac- 
quisition ought  to  form  the  most  important  branch  of  a rational 
logic ; a science  of  far  more  extensive  utility,  and  of  which  the 
pi’inciples  lie  much  deeper  in  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  than  the  trifling  art  which  is  commonly  dignified  with 
that  name.  The  branch  in  particular  to  which  the  foregoing 
observations  more  immediately  relate,  must  for  ever  remain  in 
its  infancy,  till  a most  difficult  and  important  desideratum  in 
the  history  of  the  mind  is  supplied,  by  an  explanation  of  the 
gradual  steps  by  which  it  acquires  the  use  of  the  various  classes 
of  words  which  coni])ose  the  language  of  a cultivated  and  en- 
lightened people.  Of  some  of  the  erroi-s  of  reasoning  to  which 
we  are  exposed  by  an  incautious  use  of  words,  I took  notice  in 
the  preceding  section ; and  I shall  have  occasion  afterwards  to 


ABSTRACTION. 


137 


treat  the  same  subject  more  in  detail  in  a subsequent  part  of 
my  work. 

• VI.  Of  the  errors  to  which  we  are  liable  in  speculation,  and 
in  the  conduct  of  affairs,  in  consequence  of  a rash  applica- 
tion of  general  principles.  — It  appears  sufficiently  from  the 
reasonings  which  I offered  in  the  preceding  section,  how  im- 
portant are  the  advantages  which  the  philosopher  acquires,  by 
quitting  the  study  of  particulars,  and  directing  his  attention  to 
general  principles.  I flatter  myself  it  appears  further,  from 
the  same  reasonings,  that  it  is  in  consequence  of  the  use  of 
language  alone  that  the  human  mind  is  rendered  capable  of 
these  comprehensive  speculations. 

In  order,  however,  to  proceed  with  safety  in  the  use  of  gen- 
eral principles,  much  caution  and  address  are  necessary,  both  in 
establishing  their  truth,  and  in  applying  them  to  practice. 
Without  a proper  attention  to  the  circumstances  by  which  their 
application  to  particular  cases  must  be  modified,  they  will  be  a 
perpetual  source  of  mistake  and  of  disappointment,  in  the  con- 
duct of  affairs,  however  rigidly  just  they  may  be  in  themselves, 
and  however  accurately  we  may  reason  from  them.  If  our 
general  principles  happen  to  be  false,  they  will  involve  us  in 
errors,  not  only  of  conduct  but  of  speculation ; and  our  errors 
will  be  the  more  numerous,  the  more  comprehensive  the  prin- 
ciples are  on  which  we  proceed. 

To  illustrate  these  observations  fully,  would  lead  to  a minute- 
ness of  disquisition  inconsistent  with  my  general  plan : and  I 
shall  therefore,  at  present,  confine  myself  to  such  remarks  as 
appear  to  be  of  most  essential  importance. 

Mistakes  of  the  ancients  respecting  the  study  of  universals. — 
And,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  evidently  impossible  to  establish 
solid  general  principles,  without  the  previous  study  of  pg.rticu- 
lars  : in  other  words,  it  is  necessary  to  begin  with  the  examin- 
ation of  individual  objects,  and  individual  events,  in  order  to 
lay  a groundwork  for  accurate  classification,  and  for  a just  in- 
vestigation of  the  laws  of  nature.  It  is  in  this  way  only  that 
we  can  expect  to  arrive  at  general  principles,  which  may  be 
safely  relied  on,  as  guides  to  the  knowledge  of  particular  truths : 

12* 


138 


ABSTRACTION. 


and  unless  our  principles  admit  of  such  a practical  application, 
however  beautiful  they  may  appear  to  be  in  theory,  they  are  of 
far  less  value  than  the  limited  acquisitions  of  the  vulgar.  The 
truth  of  tliese  remarks  is  now  so  universally  admitted,  and  is 
indeed  so  obvious  in  itself,  that  it  would  be  superfluous  to  multi- 
ply words  in  supporting  them ; and  I should  scarcely  have 
thought  of  stating  them  in  this  chapter,  if  some  of  the  most 
celebi’ated  philosophei's  of  antiquity  had  not  been  led  to  dispute 
them,  in  consequence  of  the  mistaken  opinions  which  they 
entertained  concerning  the  nature  of  universals.  Forgetting 
that  genera  and  species  are  mere  arbitrary  creations,  which  the 
human  mind  forms  by  withdrawing  the  attention  from  the  dis- 
tinguishing qualities  of  objects,  and  giving  a common  name  to 
their  resembling  qualities,  they  conceive  universals  to  be  real 
existences,  or  (as  they  expressed  it)  to  be  the  essences  of  indi- 
viduals ; and  flattered  themselves  with  the  belief,  that  by  direct- 
ing their  attention  to  these  essences  in  the  first  instance,  they 
might  be  enabled  to  penehate  the  secrets  of  the  universe,  with- 
out submitting  to  the  study  of  nature  in  detail.  These  errors, 
which  were  common  to  the  Platonists  and  the  Peripatetics,  and 
which  both  of  them  seem  to  have  adopted  from  the  Pythagorean 
school,  contributed,  perhaps  more  than  any  thing  else,  to  retard 
the  progress  of  the  ancients  in  physical  knowledge.  The  late 
learned  Mr.  Harris  is  almost  the  only  author  of  the  present 
age  who  has  ventured  to  defend  this  plan  of  philosophizing,  in 
opposition  to  that  which  has  been  so  successfully  followed  by 
the  disciples  of  Lord  Bacon. 

“ The  Platonists,”  says  he,  “ considering  science  as  something 
ascertained,  definite,  and  steady,  would  admit  nothing  to  be  its 
object  which  was  vague,  indefinite,  and  passing.  For  this  rea- 
son, they  excluded  all  individuals  or  objects  of  sense,  and  (as 
Amonius  expresses  it)  raised  themselves  in  their  contemplations 
from  beings  particular  to  beings  universal,  and  which,  from  their 
own  nature,  were  eternal  and  definite.”  “ Consonant  to  this 
was  the  advice  of  Plato,  with  respect  to  the . progress  of  our 
speculations  and  inquiries,  to  descend  from  those  higher  genera, 
which  include  many  subordinate  species,  down  to  the  lowest 


ABSTKACTION. 


139 


rank  of  species,  those  which  include  only  individuals.  But  here 
it  was  his  opinion,  that  our  inquiries  should  stop,  and,  as  to  indi- 
viduals, let  them  wholly  alone ; because  of  these  there  could  not 
possibly  be  any  science.” 

“ Such,”  continues  this  author,  “ was  the  method  of  ancient 
philosophy.  The  fashion,  at  present,  appears  to  be  somewhat 
altered,  and  the  business  of  j)hilosophers  to  be  little  else  than 
the  collecting  from  every  quarter,  into  voluminous  records,  an 
infinite  number  of  sensible,  particular,  and  unconnected  facts, 
the  chief  etfect  of  which  is  to  excite  our  admiration.”  In 
another  part  of  'his  works,  the  same  author  observes,  that  “ the 
mind,  truly  wise,  quitting  the  study  of  particulars,  as  knowing 
their  multitude  to  be  infinite  and  incomprehensible,  tuims  its 
intellectual  eye  to  what  is  general  and  comprehensive,  and, 
through  generals,  learns  to  see  and  recognize  whatever  exists.” 

If  we  abstract  from  these  obvious  errors  of  the  ancient  phi- 
losophers, with  respect  to  the  proper  order  to  be  observed  in 
our  inquiries,  and  only  suppose  them  to  end  where  the  Platon- 
ists  said  that  they  should  begin,  the  magnificent  encomiums 
they  bestowed  on  the  utility  of  those  comprehensive  truths 
which  form  the  object  of  science,  (making  allowance  for  the 
obscure  and  mysterious  terms  in  which  they  expressed  them,) 
can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  extravagant.  It  is  probable  that, 
from  a few  accidental  instances  of  successful  investigation,  they 
had  been  struck  with  the  wonderful  effect  of  general  principles 
in  increasing  the  intellectual  power  of  the  human  mind  ; and, 
misled  by  that  impatience  in  the  study  of  particulars,  which  is 
so  often  connected  with  the  consciousness  of  superior  ability, 
they  labored  to  persuade  themselves,  that,  by  a life  devoted  to 
abstract  meditation,  such  principles  might  he  rendered  as  imme- 
diate objects  of  intellectual  perception,  as  the  individuals  which 
compose  the  material  world  are  of  our  external  senses.  By 
connecting  this  opinion  with  their  other  doctrines  concerning 
universals,  they  were  unfortunately  enabled  to  exhibit  it  in  so 
m.ysterious  a form,  as  not  only  to  impose  on  themselves,  but  to 
perplex  the  understanding  of  all  the  learned  in  Europe  for  a 
long  succession  of  ages. 


140 


ABSTRACTION. 


The  progress  of  human  hiowledge  from  particulars  to  univer- 
sals.  — The  conclusion  to  which  we  are  led  hy  the  foregoing 
observations  is,  that  the  foundation  of  all  human  knowledge 
must  be  laid  in  the  examination  of  iiarticular  objects  and  par- 
ticular facts ; and  that  it  is  only  as  far  as  our  general  principles 
are  resolvable  into  these  primary  elements,  that  they  possess 
either  truth  or  utility.  It  must  not,  however,  be  understood  to 
be  unplied  in  this  conclusion,  that  all  our  knowledge  must  ulti- 
mately rest  on  our  owm  proper  experience.  If  this  were  the 
case,  the  progress  of  science,  and  the  jB'ogress  of  human  im- 
provement, must  have  been  wonderfully  retarded ; for,  if  it  had 
been  necessary  for  each  individual  to  form  a classification  of 
objects,  in  consequence  of  observations  and  abstractions  of  his 
own,  and  to  infer  from  the  actual  examination  of  particular 
facts,  the  general  truths  on  which  his  conduct  proceeds  ; human 
affairs  “would  at  this  day  remain  nearly  in  the  same  state  to 
which  they  were  brought  by  the  experience  of  the  first  genera- 
tion. In  fact,  this  is  very  nearly  the  situation  of  the  species  in 
all  those  parts  of  the  world,  in  which  the  existence  of  the  race 
depends  on  the  separate  efforts  which  each  individual  makes,  in 
procuring  for  himself  the  necessaries  of  life ; and  in  which,  of 
consequence,  the  habits  and  acquirements  of  each  individual 
must  be  the  result  of  his  own  personal  experience.  In  a culti- 
A'uted  society,  one  of  the  first  acquisitions  which  children  make, 
is  the  use  of  language ; by  which  means  they  are  familiarized, 
from  their  earliest  years,  to  the  consideration  of  classes  of  ob- 
jects, and  of  general  truths ; and  before  that  time  of  life  at 
which  the  savage  is  possessed  of  the  knowledge  necessary  for 
his  own  preservation,  are  enabled  to  appropriate  to  themselves 
the  accumulated  discoveries  of  ages. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  stationary  condition  in  which 
the  I’ace'  must,  of  necessity,  continue,  prior  to  the  separation  of 
.arts  and  professions,  the  natural  disposition  of  the  mind  to 
ascend  from  particular  truths  to  general  conclusions,  could  not 
fail  to  lead  individuals,  even  in  the  rudest  state  of  society,  to 
collect  the  results  of  their  experience,  for  their  own  instruction 
and  that  of  others.  But,  without  the  use  of  general  terms,  the 


ABSTRACTION. 


141 


only  possible  way  of  communicating  such  conclusions,  would  be 
by  means  of  some  particular  example,  of  which  the  general  ap- 
plication was  striking  and  obvious.  In  other  words,  the  wisdom 
of  such  ages  will  necessarily  be  expressed  in  the  form  of  fables 
or  parables,  or  in  the  still  simpler  form  of  proverbial  instances ; 
and  not  in  the  scientific  form  of  general  maxims.  In  this  way, 
undoubtedly,  much  useful  instruction,  both  of  a prudential  and 
moral  kind,  might  be  conveyed : at  the  same  time,  it  is  obvious, 
that  while  general  truths  continue  to  be  expressed  merely  by 
particular  exemplifications,  they  would  afford  little  oi;no  oppor- 
tunity to  one  generation  to  improve  on  the  speculations  of 
another ; as  no  effort  of  the  understanding  could  combine  them 
together,  or  employ  them  as  premises,  in  order  to  obtain  other 
conclusions  more  remote  and  comprehensive.  For  this  purpose, 
it  is  absolutely  necessary,  that  the  scope  or  moral  of  the  fable 
should  be  separated  entirely  from  its  accessory  circumstances, 
and  stated  in  the  form  of  a general  proposition. 

Probable  intellectual  improvement  of  future  ages.  — F rom 
what  has  now  been  said,  it  appears  how  much  the  progress  of 
human  reason,  which  necessai'ily  accompanies  the  progress  of 
society,  is  owing  to  the  introduction  of  general  terms,  and  to  the 
use  of  general  propositions.  In  consequence  of  the  gradual  im- 
provements which  take  place  in  language  as  an  instrument  of 
thought,  the  classifications  both  of  things  and  facts,  with  which 
the  infant  faculties  of  each  successive  race  are  conversant,  are 
more  just  and  more  comprehensive  than  those  of  their  prede- 
cessors : the  discoveries  which,  in  one  age,  were  confined  to  the 
studious  and  enlightened  few,  becoming  in  the  next  the  estab- 
lished creed  of  the  learned ; and  in  the  third,  forming  part  of 
the  elementary  principles  of  education.  Indeed,  among  those 
who  enjoy  the  advantages  of  early  instruction,  some  of  the  most 
remote  and  wonderful  conclusions  of  the  human  intellect  are, 
even  in  infancy,  as  completely  familiarized  to  the  mind,  as  the 
most  obvious  phenomena  which  the  material  world  exhibits  to 
their  senses. 

If  these  remarks  be  just,  they  open  an  unbounded  prospect 
of  inteUectual  improvement  to  future  ages ; as  they  point  out  a 


112 


ABSTRACTION. 


provision  made  by  nature  to  facilitate  and  abridge,  more  and 
more,  the  process  of  stiidj'^,  in  proportion  as  the  truths  to  be 
acqiiii’ed  increase  in  number.  Nor  is  this  prospect  derived 
from  theory  alone.  It  is  encouraged  by  the  past  history  of  all 
the  sciences  ; in  a moi’e  particular  manner,  by  that  of  mathe- 
matics and  physics,  in  which  the  state  of  discovery,  and  the 
prevailing  methods  of  instruction,  may,  at  all  times,  be  easily 
compared  together.  In  this  last  observation  I have  been  an- 
ticipated by  a late  eminent  mathematician,  whose  eloquent  and 
philosophical  statement  of  the  argument  cannot  fail  to  carry 
conviction  to  those  who  are  qualified  to  judge  of  the  facts  on 
which  his  conclusion  is  founded. 

“ To  such  of  my  readers  as  may  be  slow  in  admitting  the 
possibility  of  this  progressive  improvement  in  the  human  race, 
allow  me  to  state,  as  an  example,  the  history  of  that  science  in 
which  the  advances  of  discovery  are  the  most  certain,  and  in 
which  they  may  be  measured  with  the  greatest  precision.  Those 
elementary  truths  of  geometry  and  of  astronomy,  which,  in 
India  and  Egypt,  formed  an  occult  science,  upon  which  an  am- 
bitious priesthood  founded  its  influence,  were  become,  in  times 
of  Archimedes  and  Hipparchus,  the  subjects  of  common  edu- 
cation in  the  public  schools  of  Greece.  In  the  last  century,  a 
few  years  of  study  were  sufficient  for  comprehending  all  that 
Archimedes  and  Hipparchus  knew ; and,  at  present,  two  years 
emjiloyed  under  an  able  teacher,  carry  the  student  beyond 
those  conclusions  which  limited  the  inquiries  of  Leibnitz  and 
of  Newton.  Let  any  person  reflect  on  these  facts,  let  him 
follow  the  immense  chain  which  connects  the  inquiries  of  Euler 
with  those  of  a priest  of  Memphis;  let  him  observe  at  each 
epoch,  how  genius  outstrips  the  present  age,  and  how  it  is  over- 
taken by  mediocrity  in  the  next ; he  will  perceive,  that  nature 
has  furnished  us  with  the  means  of  abridging  and  facilitating 
our  intellectual  labor,  and  that  there  is  no  reason  for  apprehend- 
ing that  such  simplilications  can  ever  have  an  end.  He  will 
pei’ceive,  that  at  the  moment  when  a multitude  of  particular 
solutions,  and  of  insulated  facts,  begin  to  distract  the  attention, 
and  to  overcharge  the  memory,  the  former  gradually  lose  them- 


ABSTRACTION. 


U3 


selves  in  one  general  metKod,  and  the  latter  unite  in  one  general 
law:  and  that  these  generalizations  continually  succeeding  one 
to  another,  like  the  successive  multiphcations  of  a number  by 
itself,  have  no  other  limit,  than  that  iulinity  which  the  human 
faculties  are  unable  to  comprehend.” 

VII.  Differences  in  the  intellectual  characters  of  individuals 
arising  from  their  different  habits  of  abstraction  and  genercd- 
ization.  — In  mentioning  as  one  of  the  principal  effects  of  civil' 
ization,  its  tendency  to  famiharize  the  mind  to  general  terms 
and  to  general  propositions,  I did  not  mean  to  say,  that  this 
influence  extends  equally  to  all  the  classes  of  men  in  society. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  evidently  confined,  in  a great  measure,  to 
those  who  receive  a liberal  education ; wliile  the  minds  of  the 
lower  orders,  like  those  of  savages,  are  so  habitually  occupied 
about  particular  objects  and  particular  events,  that,  although 
they  are  sometimes  led  from  imitation,  to  employ  general  ex- 
pressions, the  use  which  they  make  of  them  is  much  more  the 
result  of  memoiy  than  judgment;  and  it  is  but  seldom  that  they 
are  able  to  comprehend  fully  any  process  of  reasoning  in  which 
they  are  involved. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  remark,  that  this  observation 
with  respect  to  the  incapacity  of  the  vulgar  for  general  specu- 
lations, (like  all  observations  of  a similar  nature,)  must  be  re- 
ceived with  some  restrictions.  In  such  a state  of  society  as 
that  in  which  we  live,  there  is  hardly  any  individual  to  be  found 
to  whom  some  general  terms,  and  some  general  truths,  are  not 
perfectly  familiar  ; and,  therefore,  the  foregoing  conclusions  are 
to  be  considered  as  descriptive  of  those  habits  of  thought  alone, 
which  are  most  prevalent  in  their  mind.  To  abridge  the  labor 
of  reasoning  and  of  memory,  by  directing  the  attention  to 
general  principles,  instead  of  jiai-ticular  truths,  is  the  professed 
aim  of  all  philosophy ; and  according  as  individuals  have  more 
or  less  of  the  philosophic  spirit,  their  habitual  speculations 
(whatever  the  nature  of  their  pursuits  may  be)  will  relate  to 
the  former,  or  to  the  latter,  of  these  objects. 

The  differences  betioeen  practical  men  and  philosophers. — 
Tliere  are,  therefore,  among  the  men  who  are  accustomed  to  the 


144 


ABSTRACTION. 


exei’cise  of  their  intellectual  powers,  two  classes,  whose  habits 
of  thoiiglit  are  remarkably  distinguished  from  each  other  ; the 
one  class  comprehending  what  we  commonly  call  men  of  busi- 
ness, or,  move  properly,  men  of  detail;  the  other,  mew  of  ab- 
straction ; or,  in  other  words,  philosophers. 

The  advantages  which,  in  certain  respects,  the  latter  of  these 
possess  over  the  former,  have  been  already  pointed  out ; but  it 
must  not  be  supposed,  that  these  advantages  are  always  pur- 
chased without  some  inconvenience.  As  the  solidity  of  our 
general  principles  depends  on  the  accuracy  of  the  particular 
observations  into  which  they  are  ultimately  resolvable,  so  their 
utility  is  to  be  estimated  by  the  practical  applications  of  which 
they  admit ; and  it  unfortunately  happens,  that  the  same  turn  of 
mind  which  is  favorable  to  philosophical  pursuits,  unless  it  be 
kept  under  proper  regulation,  is  extremely  apt  to  disqualify  us 
for  applying  our  knowledge  to  use,  in  the  exercise  of  the  arts  and 
in  the  conduct  of  affairs. 

The  danger  of  applying  abstract  principles  incautiously.  — In 
order  to  perceive  the  truth  of  these  remarks,  it  is  ahnost  suf- 
ficient to  recollect,  that  as  classifications,  and,  of  consequence, 
general  reasoning,  presupposes  the  exercise  of  abstraction;  a 
natural  disposition  to  indulge  in  them,  cannot  fail  to  lead  the 
mind  to  overlook  the  specific  differences  of  things,  in  attending 
to  their  common  qualities.  To  succeed,  however,  in  practice,  a 
familiar  and  circumstantial  acquaintance  with  the  particular 
objects  which  fall  under  our  observation,  is  indispensably  neces- 
sary. 

But  further  : As  all  general  principles  are  founded  on  classi- 
fications which  imply  the  exercise  of  abstraction,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  regard  them,  in  their  practical  ajiplications,  merely  as  ^ 
apiu’oximations  to  the  truth;  the  defects  of  which  must  be  sup- 
plied by  habits  acquired  by  personal  experience.  In  consider- 
ing, for  example,  the  theory  of  the  mechanical  powers ; it  is 
usual  to  simplify  the  objects  of  our  conception,  by  abstracting 
from  friction,  and  from  the  weight  of  the  ditferent  parts  of 
which  they  are  composed.  Levers  are  considered  as  mathe- 
matical lines,  perfectly  inflexible ; and  ropes,  as  mathematical 


ABSTRACTION. 


145 


lines,  perfectly  flexible  ; — and  by  means  of  these,  and  similar 
abstractions,  a subject,  which  is  in  itself  extremely  complicated, 
is  brought  within  the  reach  of  elementary  geometry.  In  the 
theory  of  politics,  we  find  it  necessary  to  abstract  from  many 
of  the  peculiarities  -which  distinguish  different  forms  of  govern- 
ment from  each  other,  and  to  reduce  them  to  certain  general 
classes,  according  to  their  prevailing  tendency.  Although  all 
the  governments  we  have  ever  seen,  have  had  more  or  less  of 
mixture  in  their  composition,  we  reason  concerning  pure  mon- 
archies, pure  aristocracies,  and  pure  democracies,  as  if  there 
really  existed  political  establishments  corresponding  to  our  defi- 
nitions. Without  such  a classification,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  us  to  fix  our  attention,  amidst  the  multiplicity  of  particulars 
which  the  subject  presents  to  us,  or  to  arrive  at  any  general 
principles,  which  might  serve  to  guide  our  inquiries  in  com- 
paring different  institutions  together. 

It  is  for  a similar  reason,  that  the  speculative  farmer  reduces 
the  infinite  variety  of  soils  to  a few  general  descriptions ; the 
physician,  the  infinite  variety  of  bodily  constitutions  to  a few 
temperaments ; and  the  moralist,  the  infinite  variety  of  human 
characters  to  a few  of  the  ruling  principles  of  action. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  obvious  advantages  we  derive 
from  these  classifications,  and  the  general  conclusions  to  wliich 
they  lead,  it  is  evidently  impossible  that  principles,  which  de- 
rived their  origin  from  efforts  of  abstraction,  should  apply  liter- 
ally to  practice ; or,  indeed,  that  they  should  afford  us  any 
considerable  assistance  in  conduct,  without  a certain  degree  of 
practical  and  expei'imental  skill.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  mere 
theorist  so  frequently  exposes  himself,  in  real  life,  to  the  ridicule 
of  men  whom  he  despises,  and,  in  the  general  estimation  of  the 
world,  falls  below  the  level  of  the  common  drudges  in  business 
and  the  arts.  The  walk,  indeed,  of  these  unenlightened  prac- 
titioners, must  necessarily  be  limited  by  their  accidental  oppor- 
tunities of  experience ; but,  so  far  as  they  go,  they  operate 
with  facility  and  success,  while  the  merely  speculative  philos- 
opher, although  possessed  of  principles  which  enable  him  to 
approximate  to  the  truth  in  an  infinite  Variety  of  untried  cases, 

13 


HG 


ABSTRACTION. 


and  although  he  sees  with  pity  the  narrow  views  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  the  ludicrous  pretensions  with  which  they  frequently 
oppose  their  trifling  successes  to  his  theoretical  speculations, 
finds  himself  perfectly  at  a loss  when  he  is  called  upon,  by  the 
simplest  occurrences  of  ordinary  life,  to  carry  his  principles 
into  execution.  Hence  the  origin  of  that  maxim  “ which,”  as 
Hume  remarks,  “ has  been  so  industriously  propagated  by  the 
dunces  of  every  age,  that  a man  of  genius  is  unfit  for  business.” 
What  practical  skill  consists  in.  — In  what  consists  practical 
or  experimental  skill,  it  is  not  easy  to  explain  completely ; 
but  among  other  things,  it  obviously  implies  a talent  for  minute 
and  comprehensive  and  rapid  observation ; a memory  at  once 
retentive  and  ready,  in  order  to  present  to  us  accurately,  and 
without  reflection,  our  theoretical  knowledge ; a presence  of 
mind  not  to  be  disconcerted  by  unexpected  occurrences,  and,  in 
some  cases,  an  uncommon  degree  of  perfection  in  the  external 
senses,  and  in  the  mechanical  capacities  of  the  body.  All  these 
elements  of  practical  skill,  it  is  obvious,  are  to  be  acquired  only 
by  habits  of  active  exertion,  and  by  a familiar  acquaintance 
with  real  occurrences  ; for  as  all  the  practical  principles  of  our 
nature,  both  intellectual  and  animal,  have  a reference  to  par- 
ticulars, and  not  to  generals,  so  it  is  in  the  active  scenes  of  life 
alone,  and  amidst  the  details  of  business,  that  they  can  be  culti- 
vated and  improved. 

Experience  and  practical  skill  not  sufficient  for  all  occasions.  — 
The  remarks  which  have  been  already  made  are  sufficient  to 
illustrate  the  impossibility  of  acquiring  talent  for  business,  or 
for  any  of  the  practical  arts  of  life,  without  actual  experience. 
They  show,  also,  that  mere  experience,  without  theory,  may 
qualify  a man,  in  certain  cases,  for  distinguishing  himself  in 
in  both.  It  is  not,  however,  to  be  imagined  tliat,  in  this  way, 
individuals  are  to  be  formed  for  the  uncommon,  or  for  the  im- 
portant situations  of  society,  or  even  for  enriching  the  arts  by 
new  inventions  ; for  as  their  address  and  dexterity  are  founded 
entirely  on  imitation,  or  derived  from  the  lessons  which  experi- 
ence has  suggested  to  them,  they  cannot  possibly  extend  to  new 
combinations  of  circumstances.  Mere  experience,  therefore, 


ABSTRACTION. 


147 


can,  at  best,  prepare  the  mind  for  tlie  subordinate  departments 
of  life,  for  conducting  the  established  routine  of  business,  or  for 
a servile  repetition  in  the  arts  of  common  operations. 

In  the  character  of  Mr.  George  Grenville,  which  Mr.  Burke 
introduced  in  his  celebrated  speech  on  American  Taxation,  a 
lively  picture  is  drawn  of  the  insufficiency  of-  mere  experience 
to  qualify  a man  for  new  and  untried  situations  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  government.  The  observations  he  makes  on  this 
subject  are  expressed  with  his  usual  beauty  and  felicity  of  lan- 
guage, and  are  of  so  general  a nature,  that,  with  some  trifling 
alterations,  they  may  be  extended  to  all  the  practical  pursuits 
of  life. 

“ Mr.  Grenville  was  bred  to  the  law,  which  is,  in  my  opinion, 
one  of  the  finest  and  noblest  of  human  sciences ; a science 
which  does  more  to  quicken  and  invigorate  the  understanding, 
than  all  the  other  kinds  of  learning  put  together  ; but  it  is  not 
apt,  except  in  persons  very  happily  born,  to  open  and  to  liberal- 
ize the  mind  exactly  in  the  same  propoidion.  Passing  from 
that  study,  he  did  not  go  very  largely  into  the  world,  but 
plunged  into  business,  I mean  into  the  business  of  office,  and 
the  limited-  and  fixed  methods  and  forms  established  there. 
Much  knowledge  is  to  be  had,  undoubtedly,  in  that  line,  and 
there  is  no  knowledge  which  is  not  valuable.  But  it  may  be 
truly  said,  that  men  too  much  conversant  in  office  are  rarely 
minds  of  remarkable  enlargement.  Their  habits  of  office  are 
apt  to  give  them  a turn  to  think  the  substance  of  business  not 
to  be  much  more  important  than  the  forms  in  which  it  is  con- 
ducted. These  forms  are  adapted  to  ordinary  occasions ; and, 
therefore,  persons  who  are  nurtured  in  office  do  admirably  well, 
as  long  as  things  go  on  in  their  common  order ; but  when  the 
high  roads  are  broken  up,  and  the  waters  out,  when  a new  and 
troubled  scene  is  opened,  and  the  file  affords  no  precedent,  then 
it  is,  that  a greater  knowledge  of  mankind,  and  a far  more  ex- 
tensive comprehension  of  things  is  requisite,  than  ever  office 
gave,  or  than  office  can  ever  give.” 

Nor  is  it  in  new  combinations  of  circumstances  alone,  that 
general  principles  assist  us  in  the  conduct  of  affairs ; they 


118 


ABSTKACTION. 


render  the  application  of  our  practical  skill  more  unerring  aud 
more  perfect.  For  as  general  principles  limit  the  utility  of 
practical  skill  to  supply  the  imperfections  of  theory,  they 
diminish  the  number  of  cases  in  which  this  skill  is  to  be  em- 
ployed, and  thus  at  once  facilitate  its  improvement  wherever  it 
is  requisite,  and  lessen  the  errors  to  which  it  is  liable,  by  con- 
tracting the  field  within  which  it  is  possible  to  commit  them. 

It  would  appear,  then,  that  there  are  two  o})posite  extremes 
into  which  men  are  apt  to  fall,  in  preparing  themselves  for  the 
duties  of  active  life.  The  one  rises  from  habits  of  abstraction  and 
generalization  carried  to  an  excess ; the  other,  from  a minute, 
an  exclusive,  and  an  unenlightened  attention  to  the  objects  and 
events  which  happen  to  fall  under  their  actual  experience. 

A good  education  would  guard  against  both  extrejnes.  — In  a 
perfect  system  of  education,  care  should  be  taken  to  guard 
against  both  extremes,  and  to  unite  habits  of  abstraction  with 
habits  of  business,  in  such  a manner  as  to  enable  men  to  con- 
sider things  either  in  general,  or  in  detail,  as  the  occasion  may 
require.  Whichever  of  these  habits  may  happen  to  gain  an 
undue  ascendant  over  the  mind,  it  will  necessarily  produce  a 
character  limited  in  its  powers,  and  fitted  only  for  particular 
exertions.  Hence  some  of  the  apparent  inconsistencies  which 
we  may  frequently  remark  in  the  intellectual  capacities  of  the 
same  person.  One  man,  from  an  early  indulgence  in  abstract 
speculation,  possesses  a knowledge  of  general  principles,  and  a 
talent  for  general  reasoning,  united  with  a fluency  and  eloquence 
in  the  use  of  general  terms,  which  seem,  to  the  vulgar,  to  an- 
nounce abilities  fitted  for  any  given  situation  in  life ; while,  in 
the  conduct  of  the  simplest  affairs,  he  exhibits  every  mark  of 
irresolution  and  incapacity.  Another  not  only  acts  with  pro 
priety  and  skill  in  circumstances  which  require  a minute  at- 
tention to  details,  but  possesses  an  acuteness  of  reasoning,  and 
a facility  of  expression  on  all  subjects,  in  which  nothing  but 
what  is  particular  is  involved ; while  on  general  topics,  he  is 
perfectly  unable  either  to  reason  or  to  judge.  It  is  this  last 
tui'n  of  mind,  which  I think  we  have,  in  most  instances,  in 
view,  when  we  speak  of  good  sense,  or  common  sense,  in  oppo- 


ABSTKACTIOlSr. 


149 


sition  to  science  and  philosophy.  Both  philosophy  and  good 
sense  imply  the  exercise  of  our  reasoning  powers ; and  they 
differ  from  each  other  only  according  as  these  powers  are  ap- 
plied to  particulars  or  to  generals.  It  is  on  good  sense  (in  the 
acceptation  in  which  I have  now  explained  the  term),  that  the 
success  of  men  in  the  inferior  walks  of  life  chiefly  depends ; 
but,  that  it  does  not  always  indicate  capacity  for  abstract  science 
or  for  general  speculation,  or  for  able  conduct  in  situations 
which  require  comprehensive  views,  is  matter  even  of  vulgar 
remark. 

Natural  superiority  of  the  men  of  general  views.  — Although, 
however,  each  of  these  defects  has  a tendency  to  limit  the 
utility  of  the  individuals  in  whom  it  is  to  be  found,  to  certain 
stations  in  society ; no  comparison  can  be  made,  in  point  of 
original  value,  between  the  intellectual  capacities  of  the  two 
classes  of  men  to  which  they  characteristically  belong.  The 
one  is  the  defect  of  a vigorous,  an  ambitious,  and  a compre- 
hensive genius,  improperly  directed;  the  other,  of  an  under- 
standing minute  and  circumscribed  in  its  views,  timid  in  its  ex- 
ertions, and  formed  for  servile  imitation.  Nor  is  the  former 
defect,  (however  difficult  it  may  be  to  remove  it  when  confirmed 
by  long  habit,)  by  any  means  so  incurable  as  the  latter ; for  it 
arises,  not  from  original  constitution,  but  from  some  fault  in 
early  education  ; while  every  tendency  to  the  opposite  extreme 
is  more  or  less  characteristical  of  a mind,  useful,  indeed,  in  a 
high  degree,  when  confined  to  its  proper  sphere,  but  destined, 
by  the  hand  that  formed  it,  to  borrow  its  lights  from  another. 

As  an  additional  proof  of  the  natural  superiority  which  men 
of  general  views  possess  over  the  common  drudges  in  business, 
it  may  be  further  observed,  that  the  habits  of  inattention  inci- 
dent to  the  former  arise  in  part  from  the  little  interest  which 
they  take  in  particular  objects  and  particular  occurrences,  and 
are  not  wholly  to  be  ascribed  to  an  incapacity  of  attention. 
When  the  mind  has  been  long  accustomed  to  the  consideration 
of  classes  of  objects  and  of  comprehensive  theorems,  it  cannot, 
without  some  degree  of  effort,  descend  to  that  humble  walk  of 
experience,  or  of  action,  in  which  the  meanest  of  mankind  are 
13* 


150 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


on  a level  ■with  the  greatest.  In  important  situations,  accord- 
ingly, men  of  the  most  general  views  are  found  not  to  be  in- 
ferior to  the  vulgar  in  their  attention  to  details ; because  the 
objects  and  occurrences  which  such  situations  present,  rouse 
their  passions,  and  interest  their  curiosity,  from  the  magnitude 
of  the  consequences  to  which  they  lead. 

Wlien  theoretical  knowledge  and  practical  skill  are  happily 
combined  in  the  same  person,  the  intellectual  power  of  man 
appears  in  its  full  perfection ; and  fits  him  equally  to  conduct, 
with  a masterly  hand,  the  details  of  ordinary  business,  and  to 
contend  successfully  with  the  untried  difficulties  of  new  and 
hazardous  situations.  In  conducting  the  former,  mere  experi- 
ence may  frequently  be  a suflBcient  guide  ; but  experience  and 
speculation  must  fie  combined  together  to  prepare  us  for  the 
latter.  “ Expert  men,”  says  Lord  Bacon,  “ can  execute  and 
judge  of  particulars  one  by  one;  but  the  general  counsels,  and 
the  plots,  and  the  marshalling  of  affairs,  come  best  from  those 
that  are  learned.” 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 

The  subject  on  which  I am  now  to  enter,  naturally  divides 
itself  into  Two  Parts.  The  First  relates  to  the  influence  of 
Association  in  regulating  the  succession  of  our  thoughts ; the 
Second,  to  its  influence  on  the  intellectual  pqwers,  and  on  the 
moral  character,  by  the  more  intimate  and  indissoluble  combi- 
nations which  it  leads  us  to  form  in  infancy  and  in  early  youth. 
The  two  inquiries,  indeed,  run  into  each  other ; but  it  will  con- 
tribute much  to  the  order  of  our  speculations,  to  keep  the  fore- 
going arrangement  in  view. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS. 


151 


PART  I. 

OF  THE  INFLUENCE  OP  ASSOCIATION  IN  KEGULATING  THE 
SUCCESSION  OF  OUR  THOUGHTS. 

§ I.  General  Observations  on  this  Part  of  our  Constitution, 
and  on  the  Language  of  Philosophers  with  respect  to  it.  — That 
one  thought  is  often  suggested  to  the  mind  by  another;  and 
tliat  the  sight  of  an  external  object  often  recalls  former  occur- 
rences, and  revives  former  feelings,  are  facts  which  are  per- 
fectly familiar,  even  to  those  who  are  the  least  disposed  to 
speculate  concerning  the  principles  of  their  nature.  In  passing 
along  a road  which  we  have  formerly  travelled  in  the  company 
of  a friend,  the  particulars  of  the  conversation  in  which  we  were 
then  engaged,  are  frequently  suggested  to  us  by  the  objects  we 
meet  with.  In  such  a scene,  we  recollect  that  a particular 
subject  was  started;  and  in  passing  the  ditferent  houses,  and 
plantations,  and  rivers,  the  arguments  we  were  discussing  when 
we  last  saw  them,  recur  spontaneously  to  the  memory.  The 
connection  which  is  formed  in  the  mind  between  the  words  of  a 
language  and  the  ideas  they  denote;  the  connection  which  is 
formed  between  the  different  words  of  a discourse  we  have 
committed  to  memory ; the  connection  between  the  different 
notes  of  a piece  of  music  in  the  mind  of  the  musician,  are  all 
obvious  instances  of  the  same  general  law  of  our  nature. 

The  influence  of  perceptible  objects  in  reviving  former 
thoughts  and  former  feelings,  is  more  particularly  remarkable. 
After  time  has,  in  some  degree,  reconciled  us  to  the  death  of  a 
friend,  how  wonderfully  are  we  affected  the  first  time  we  enter 
the  house  where  he  lived.  Every  thing  we  see ; the  apartment 
where  he  studied ; the  chair  upon  which  he  sat,  recall  to  us  the 
happiness  we  have  enjoyed  together ; and  we  should  feel  it  a 
sort  of  violation  of  that  respect  we  owe  to  his  memory,  to  engage 
in  any  light  or  indifferent  discourse  when  such  objects  arc 
before  us.  In  the  case,  too,  of  those  remarkable  scenes  which 
interest  the  curiosity,  from  the  memorable  persons  or  transac- 


152 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


tions  whicli  we  have  been  accustomed  to  connect  witli  them  in 
the  course  of  our  studies,  the  fancy  is  more  awakened  by  the 
actual  perception  of  the  scene  itself,  than  by  the  mere  concep- 
tion or  imagination  of  it.  Hence  the  pleasure  .we  enjoy  in 
visiting  classical  ground ; in  beholding  the  retreats  which  in- 
spired the  genius  of  our  favorite  authors,  or  the  fields  which 
have  been  dignified  by  exertions  of  heroic  virtue.  How  feeble 
are  the  emotions  produced  by  the  liveliest  conception  of  modern 
Italy,  to  what  the  poet  felt,  when,  amidst  the  ruins  of  Rome, 

“ He  drew  th’  inspiring  breath  of  ancient  arts, 

And  trod  the  sacred  walks 

Where,  at  each  step,  imagination  burns  ! ” 

The  well-known  effect  of  a particular  tune  on  Swiss  regi 
ments,  when  at  a distance  from  home,  furnishes  a very  striking 
illustration  of  the  peculiar  power  of  a perception,  or  of  an 
impression  on  the  senses,  to  awaken  associated  thoughts  and 
feelings ; and  numberless  facts  of  a similar  nature  must  have 
occurrcid  to  every  person  of  moderate  sensibility,  in  the  course 
of  his  owm  experience. 

“ Whilst  we  were  at  dinner,”  says  Captain  King,  “ in  this 
miserable  hut,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Awatska,  the  guests 
of  a people  with  whose  existence  we  had  before  been  scarce  ac- 
quainted, and  at  the  extremity  of  the  habitable  globe  ; a solitary, 
half-v.'orn  pewter  spoon,  whose  shape  was  familiar  to  us,  attracted 
our  attention ; and,  on  examination,  we  found  it  stamped  on 
the  back  with  the  word  London.  I cannot  pass  over  this  cir- 
cumstance in  silence,  out  of  gratitude  for  the  many  pleasant 
thouglits,  the  anxious  hopes,  and  tender  remembrances,  it 
excited  in  us.  Those  who  have  experienced  the  effects  that 
long  absence,  and  extreme  distance  from  their  native  country, 
produce  on  the  mind,  will  readily  conceive  the  pleasure  such 
a trifling  incident  can  give.” 

The  difference  between  the  effect  of  a perception  and  an 
idea,  in  awakening  associated  thoughts  and  feelings,  is  finely 
described  in  the  introduction  to  the  fifth  book  De  Finihus. 

“We  agreed,”  says  Cicero,  “that  we  should  take  our  after- 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OE  IDEAS. 


153 


noon’s  walk  in  the  academy,  as  at  that  time  of  the  day  it  was  a 
place  where  there  was  no  resort  of  company.  Accordingly,  at 
the  hour  appointed,  we  went  to  Piso’s.  We  passed  the  time  in 
conversing  on  different  matters  during  our  short  walk  from  the 
double  gate,  till  we  came  to  the  academy,  that  justly  celebrated 
spot,  which,  as  we  wished,  we  found  a perfect  solitude.  I 
know  not,”  said  Piso,  “ whether  it  be  a natural  feeling,  or  an 
illusion  of  the  imagination  founded  on  habit,  that  we  are  more 
powerfully  affected  by  the  sight  of  those  places  which  have 
been  much  frequented  by  illustrious  men,  than  when  wm  either 
listen  to  the  recital,  or  read  the  detail,  of  their  great  actions. 
At  this  moment,  I feel  strongly  that  emotion  which  I speak  of. 
I see  before  me  the  perfect  form  of  Plato,  who  was  w-ont  to 
dispute  in  this  very  place ; these  gardens  not  only  recall  him  to 
my  memory,  but  present  his  very  person  to  my  senses.  I 
fancy  to  myself,  that  here  stood  Speusqipus,  there  Xenocrates, 
and  here,  on  this  bench,  sat  his  disciple  Polemo.  To  me,  our 
ancient  senate-house  seems  peopled  with  the  like  visionary 
forms  ; for,  often,  when  I enter  it,  the  shades  of  Scipio,  of  Cato^ 
and  of  Lselius,  and,  in  particular,  of  my  venerable  grandfather, 
rise  to  my  imagination.  In  short,  such  is  the  effect  of  local  situ- 
ation in  recalling  associated  ideas  to  the  mind,  that  it  is  not 
without  reason,  some  philosophers  have  founded  on  this  prin- 
ciple a species  of  artificial  memory.” 

This  influence  of  perceptible  objects,  in  awakening  associated 
thoughts  and  associated  feelings,  seems  to  arise,  in  a great  meas- 
m’e,  from  their  permanent  operation  as  exciting  or  suggesting 
causes.  When  a train  of  thought  takes  its  rise  from  an  idea  or 
conception,  the  first  idea  soon  disappears,  and  a series  of  others 
succeeds,  which  are  gradually  less  and  less  related  to  that  with 
which  the  train  commenced : but  in  the  case  of  perception,  the 
exciting  cause  remains  steadily  before  us  ; and  all  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  which  have  any  relation  to  it,  crowd  into  the  mind 
in  rapid  succession  ; strengthening  each  other’s  efiects,  and  all 
conspiring  in  the  same  general  impression. 

Common  maxims  of  conduct  founded  on  the  association  of 
ideas.  — I have  ah-eady  observed,  that  the  connections  which 


154 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


exist  among  our  thoughts,  have  been  long  familiarly  known  to 
the  vulgar  as  well  as  to  philosophers.  It  is,  indeed,  only  of 
late  that  we  have  been  possessed  of  an  appropriated  phrase  to 
express  them ; hut  that  the  general  fact  is  not  a recent  dis- 
covery, may  he  inferred  from  many  of  the  common  maxims  of 
prudence  and  of  propriety,  which  have  plainly  been  suggested 
hy  an  attention  to  this  part  of  our  constitution.  When  we  lay 
it  down,  for  example,  as  a general  rule,  to  avoid  in  conversation 
all  expressions,  and  all  topics  of  discourse,  which  have  any  re- 
lation, however  remote,  to  ideas  of  an  unpleasant  nature,  we 
plainly  proceed  on  the  supposition  tliat  there  are  cei'tain  con- 
nections among  our  thoughts,  which  have  an  influence  over  the 
order  of  their  succession.  It  is  unnecessary  to  remark,  how 
much  of  the  comfort  and  good-humor  of  social  life  depends  on 
an  attention  to  this  consideration.  Such  attentions  are  more 
particularly  essential  in  our  intercourse  with  men  of  the  world ; 
for  the  commerce  of  society  has  a wonderful  effect  in  increasing 
the  quickness  and  the  facihty  with  which  we  associate  all  ideas 
which  have  any  reference  to  life  and  manners;*  and,  of  conse- 
quence, it  must  render  the  sensibility  alive  to  many  circum- 
stances which,  from  the  remoteness  of  their  relation  to  the  situ- 
ation and  history  of  the  parties,  would  otherwise  have  passed 
unnoticed. 

When  an  idea,  however,  is  thus  suggested  hy  association,  it 
produces  a slighter  impi'ession,  or,  at  least,  it  produces  its  im- 
pression more  gradually,  than  if  it  were  presented  more  directly 
and  immediately  to  the  mind.  And  hence,  when  we  are  under 
a necessity  of  communicating  any  disagreeable  information  to 
another,  delicacy  leads  us,  instead  of  mentioning  the  thing  itself, 


* The  superiority  which  the  man  of  the  world  possesses  over  the  recluse 
student,  in  his  knowledge  of  mankind,  is  partly  the  result  of  this  quick- 
ness and  facility  of  association.  Those  trifling  circumstances  in  conver- 
sation and  behavior,  which,  to  the  latter,  convey  only  their  most  obvious 
and  avowed  meaning,  lay  open  to  the  former  many  of  the  trains  of 
thought  which  are  connected  with  them,  and  fre(;ucntly  give  him  a distinct 
view  of  a character,  on  that  very  side  where  it  is  supposed  to  be  most  con* 
oealed  from  his  observation. 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


155 


to  mention  something  else  from  which  our  meaning  may  be 
understood.  In  this  manner,  we  prepare  our  hearers  for  the 
unwelcome  intelligence. 

The  distinction  between  gross  and  delicate  flattery  is  founded 
upon  the  same  principle.  As  nothing  is  more  offensive  than 
flattery  which  is  direct  and  pointed,  praise  is  considered  as 
happy  and  elegant  in  proportion  to  the  slightness  of  the  associa- 
tions by  which  it  is  conveyed. 

Ohjections  to  the  phrase,  association  of  ideas.  — To  this  ten- 
dency which  one  thought  has  to  introduce  another,  philoso- 
phers have  given  the  name  of  the  Association  of  Ideas ; and 
as  I would  not  wish,  excepting  in  case  of  necessity,  to  depart 
from  common  language,  or  to  expose  myself  to  the  charge  of 
delivering  old  doctrines  in  a new  form,  I shall  continue  to  make 
use  of  the  same  expression.  I am  sensible,  indeed,  that  the 
expression  is  by  no  means  unexceptionable ; and  that,  if  it  be 
used,  as  it  frequently  has  been,  to  comprehend  those  laws  by 
which  the  succession  of  all  our  thoughts  and  of  all  our  mental 
operations  is  regulated,  the  word  idea  must  be  understood  in  a 
sense  much  more  extensive  than  it  is  commonly  employed  in. 
It  is  very  justly  remarked  by  Dr.  Reid,  that  “ memory,  judg- 
ment, reasoning,  passions,  affections,  and  purposes  ; in  a word, 
every  operation  of  the  mind,  excepting  those  of  sense,  is  ex- 
cited occasionally  in  the  train  of  our  thoughts ; so  that,  if  we 
make  the  train  of  our  thoughts  to  be  only  a train  of  ideas,  the 
word  idea  must  be  understood  to  denote  aU  these  operations.” 
In  continuing,  therefore,  to  employ,  upon  this  subject,  that  lan- 
guage which  has  been  consecrated  by  the  practice  of  our  best 
philosophical  writers  in  England,  I would  not  be  understood 
to  dispute  the  advantages  which  might  be  derived  from  the 
inh’oduction  of  a new  phrase,  more  precise  and  more  applicable 
to  the  fact.* 


* [Instead  of  the  common  phrase,  association  of  ideas,  Dr.  Thomas 
Brown  prefers,  for  reasons  which  he  has  stated  with  great  acuteness,  the 
simple  term,  suggestion.  After  remarking,  as  Reid  and  Stewart  had  done 
before  him,  that  not  only  ideas,  but  emotions,  purposes,  judgments,  and  all 


156 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


The  relations  of  hahit  to  the  association  of  ideas.  — The 
ingenious  author  whom  I last  quoted,  seems  to  think  that  the 
association  of  ideas  has  no  elaim  to  be  considered  as  an  original 
principle,  or  as  an  ultimate  fact  in  our  nature.  “ I believe,”  says 
he,  “ that  the  original  principles  of  the  mind,  of  which  we  can 
give  no  account,  but  that  such  is  our  constitution,  are  more  in 
number  than  is  commonly  thought.  But  we  ought  not  to  multi- 


other  operations  of  mind,  succeed  each  other  in  trains  of  thought  and  feeling 
by  virtue  of  this  faculty,  he  observes,  that  the  term  association  seems  to 
imply  that  the  two  ideas  or  affections,  the  one  of  which  serves  to  call  up, 
or  remind  us  of,  the  other,  were  formerly  present  to  the  mind  together,  and 
were  then  associated,  or  so  connected  with  each  other,  that,  ever  afterwards, 
one  could  not  occur  without  bringing  up  the  other  also.  In  other  words, 
he  thinks  the  term  association  implies  previous  association  ; and  to  this  hy- 
pothesis he  opposes  the  well-known  fact,  “ that  an  object  seen  for  the  first 
time  does  suggest  many  relative  conceptions.”  “ In  this  case,  at  least, 
there  cannot  have  been  any  previous  connection  of  that  which  suggests 
with  that  wliich  is  suggested.”  “ That  the  perception  of  a giant,  which 
had  never  before  coexisted  with  the  idea  of  a dwarf,  should  yet  be  suf- 
ficient, without  some  prior  association,  to  induce  that  idea,  may  seem  very 
wonderful ; but  wonderful  as  it  is,  it  is  really  not  more  mysterious  than 
if  the  two  ideas  had  coexisted,  or  succeeded  each  other,  innumerable 
times.  The  great  mystery  is  in  the  simple  fact  of  the  recurrence  or  spon- 
taneous rise  of  any  idea,  without  the  recurrence  of  the  external  cause  which 
produced  it ; and  when  that  external  cause  has  ceased,  perhaps,  to  have 
any  existence.”  Take  Byron’s  vivid  description  of  the  Dying  Gladiator, 
as  an  instance  to  show  how  present  perceptions,  however  strong  and  startling 
in  character,  may  yet  fail  to  call  away  the  mind’s  attention  from  the 
thoughts  and  scenes  of  other  days,  now  long  distant,  though  the  latter  are 
not  suggested  by  any  object  of  sense,  but  only  by  a train  of  ideas  and 
passions  that  were  brought  together  by  the  principle  of  opposition  or 
contrast. 

“ And  now 

The  arena  smms  around  him,  — he  is  gone. 

Ere  ceased  the  inhuman  shout  which  hailed  the  wretch  who  won. 

“ He  heard  it,  hut  he  heeded  not,  — his  eyes 
Were  with  his  heart,  and  that  was  far  away. 

He  recked  not  of  the  life  he  lost,  nor  prize  ; 

Bat  where  his  rude  hut  by  the  Danube  lay. 

There  were  his  young  barbarians  all  at  play, 

There  was  their  Dacian  mother  ” — J 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS. 


157 


ply  them  without  necessity.  That  trains  of  thinking,  which 
by  frequent  repetition  have  become  familiar,  should  spontane- 
ously offer  themselves  to  our  fancy,  seems  to  requme  no  other 
original  quality  but  the  power  of  habit.” 

With  this  observation  I cannot  agree ; because  I think  it 
more  philosophical  to  resolve  the  power  of  habit  into  the  associ- 
ation of  ideas,  than  to  resolve  the  association  of  ideas  into  habit. 
• The  word  /ia5i(,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  commonly  em- 
ployed, expresses  that  facility  which  the  mind  acquires,  in  all 
its  exertions,  both,  animal  and  intellectual,  in  consequence  of 
practice.  We  apply  it  to  the  dexterity  of  the  workman ; to 
the  extemporary  fluency  of  the  orator ; to  the  rapidity  of  the 
arithmetical  accountant.  That  this  facility  is  the  effect  of  prac- 
tice, we  know  from  experience  to  be  a fact ; but  it  does  not 
seem  to  be  an  ultimate  fact,  nor  incapable  of  analysis. 

In  the  Essay  on  Attention,  I showed  that  the  effects  of  prac- 
tice are  produced  partly  on  the  body,  and  partly  on  the  mind. 
The  muscles  which  we  employ  in  mechanical  operations,  be- 
come stronger,  and  become  more  obedient  to  the  will.  This 
is  a fact,  of  which  it  is  probable  that  philosophy  will  never  be 
able  to  give  any  explanation. 

But  even  in  mechanical  operations,  the  effects  of  practice 
are  produced  partly  on  the  mind ; and,  as  far  as  this  is  the  case, 
they  are  resolvable  into  what  philosophers  call  the  association 
of  ideas,  or  into  that  general  fact  which  Dr.  Reid  himself  has 
stated,  “ that  trains  of  thinking,  which,  by  frequent  repetition, 
have  become  familiar,  spontaneously  offer  themselves  to  the 
mind.”  In  the  case  of  habits  which  are  purely  intellectual,  the 
effects  of  practice  resolve  themselves  completely  into  this  prin- 
ciple : and  it  appears  to  me  more  precise  and  satisfactory,  to 
state  the  principle  itself  as  a law  of  our  constitution,  than  to 
slur  it  over  under  the  concise  appellation  of  habit,  which  we 
apply  in  common  to  mind  and  body. 

Association  of  ideas  distinguished  from  imagination.  — The 
tendency  in  the  human  mind  to  associate  or  connect  its  thoughts 
together,  is  sometimes  called,  but  very  improperly,  the  imagi- 
nation. Between  these  two  parts  of  our  constitution,  there  is, 

14 


158 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


indeed,  a very  intimate  relation;  and  it  is  probably  owing  to 
this  relation,  that  they  have  been  so  generally  confounded  under 
the  same  name.  When  the  mind  is  occupied  about  absent  ob- 
jects of  sense,  (which,  I believe,  it  is  habitually  in  the  great 
majority  of  mankind,)  its  train  of  thought  is  merely  a series  of 
conceptions ; or,  in  common  language,  of  imaginations.  In  the 
case,  too,  of  poetical  imagination,  it  is  the  association  of  ideas 
that  supplies  the  materials  out  of  which  its  combinations  arb 
formed ; and  when  such  an  imaginary  combination  is  become 
familiar  to  the  mind,  it  is  the  association  of  ideas  that  connects 
its  different  parts  together,  and  unites  them  into  one  whole. 
The  association  of  ideas,  therefore,  although  perfectly  distinct 
from  the  power  of  imagination,  is  immediately  and  essentially 
subservient  to  all  its  exertions. 

Fancy  distinguished  from  imagination.  — The  last  obser- 
vation seems  to  me  to  point  out,  also,  the  circumstance  which  has 
led  the  greater  part  of  English  writers  to  use  the  words  imagi- 
nation and  fancy  as  synonymous.  It  is  obvious,  that  a creative 
imagination,  when  a person  possesses  it  so  habitually  that  it 
may  be  regarded  as  forming  one  of  the  characteristics  of  his 
genius,  imbibes  a power  of  summoning  up,  at  pleasure,  a par- 
ticular class  of  ideas,  and  of  ideas  related  to  each  other  in  a 
particular  manner  ; which  power  can  be  the  result  only  of  cer- 
tain habits  of  association,  which  the  individual  has  acquired. 

It  is  to  this  power  of  the  mind,  which  is  evidently  a par- 
ticular turn  of  thought,  and  not  one  of  the  common  principles 
of  our  nature,  that  our  best  writers  (so  far  as  I am  able  to 
judge)  refer,  in  general,  when  they  make  use  of  the  word  fancy ; 
I say,  in  general;  for  in  disquisitions  of  this  sort,  in  which  the 
best  writers  are  seldom  precise  and  steady  in  the  employment  of 
words,  it  is  only  to  their  prevailing  practice  that  we  can  appeal 
as  an  authority.  What  the  particular  relations  are,  by  which 
those  ideas  are  connected  that  are  subservient  to  poetical 
imagination,  I shall  not  inquire  at  present.  I think  they  are 
chiefly  those  of  resemblance  and  analogy.  But  whatever  they 
may  be,  the  power  of  summoning  up  at  pleasure  the  ideas  so 
related,  as  it  is  the  groundwork  of  poetical  genius,  is  of  suffi- 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


159 


cient  importance  in  the  human  constitution  to  deserve  an  appro- 
priated name ; and,  for  this  purpose,  the  word  fancy  would  ap- 
pear to  be  the  most  convenient  that  our  language  affords. 

Dr.  Reid  has  somewhere  observed,  that  “ the  part  of  our  con- 
stitution on  which  the  association  of  ideas  depends,  was  called, 
by  the  older  English  writers,  the  fantasy  or  fancy  f a use  of 
the  word,  we  may  remark,  which  coincides,  in  many  instances, 
with  that  which  I propose  to  make  of  it.  It  differs  from  it 
only  in  this,  that  these  writers  applied  it  to  the  association  of 
ideas  in  general,  whereas  I restrict  its  application  to  that  habit 
of  association,  which  is  subservient  to  poetical  imagination. 

According  to  the  explanation  which  has  now  been  given  of 
the  word  fancy,  the  office  of  this  power  is  to  collect  materials  ffir 
the  imagination  ; and,  therefore,  the  latter  power  presupposes 
the  former,  while  the  former  does  not  necessarily  suppose  the 
latter.  A man  whose  habits  of  association  present  to  him,  for 
illustrating  or  embellishing  a subject,  a number  of  resembling, 
or  of  analogous  ideas,  we  call  a man  of  fancy  : but  for  an  effort 
of  imagination,  various  other  powers  are  necessary,  particularly 
tlie  powers  of  taste  and  of  judgment ; without  which,  we  can  hope 
to  produce  nothing  that  will  he  a source  of  pleasure  to  others. 
It  is  the  power  of  fancy  which  supplies  the  poet  with  meta- 
phorical language,  and  with  all  the  analogies  which  are  the 
foundation  of  his  illusions  ; hut  it  is  the  power  of  imagination 
that  creates  the  complex  scenes  he  describes,  and  the  fictitious 
characters  he  delineates.  To  fancy,  we  apply  the  epithets  of 
rich  or  luxuriant ; to  imagination,  those  of  beautiful  or  sublime.* 


* [Though  the  best  witers,  as  Stewart  remarks,  are  seldom  steady  and 
precise  in  the  use  of  two  terms  so  nearly  related  to  each  other  as  fancij  and 
imagination,  we  think  these  two  faculties  may  yet  be  distinguished  from 
each  other  by  a broader  line  of  separation  than  the  one  marked  out  in  the 
text.  In  fact,  the  assertion  that  it  is  the  office  of  fancy  only  to  furnish  the 
materials  for  the  imagination  to  work  upon,  if  it  be  understood  tt)  mean, 
that  fancy  merely  reproduces  the  sights  and  sounds,  the  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, that  were  known  before,  without  altering  or  refashioning  them,  or 


160 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


II.  Of  the  principles  of  association  among  our  ideas.  — The 
facts  which  I stated  in  the  former  Section,  to  illustrate  the  ten- 
dency of  a perception,  or  of  an  idea,  to  suggest  ideas  related  to 
it,  are  so  obvious  as  to  be  matter  of  common  remark.  But  the 
relations  which  connect  all  our  thoughts  together,  and  the  laws 
which  regulate  their  succession,  were  but  little  attended  to 
before  the  publication  of  Mr.  Hume’s  writings. 


combining  them  anew,  is  contradicted  by  the  usage  both  of  poets  and 
critics. 

“ So  full  of  shapes  is  fancy, 

That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical ; ” — 

it  throws  its  materials  together  into  combinations  so  new  and  fanciful, 
that  the  likeness  of  them  cannot  be  found  on  the  earth  or  under  the  earth. 
A “ fancy  picture,”  or  a “ fancy  sketch,”  is  commonly  understood  to  mean 
an  ideal  combination  of  things  often  found  separate  in  nature,  but  never 
before  found  together.  The  leading  characteristic  of  such  fancy  work  is, 
that  it  is  recognized  at  the  moment  to  be  unreal,  or  fantastic. 

But  imagination,  as  Stewart  has  here  pointed  out,  is  accompanied  by 
belief ; it  is,  for  the  moment,  a delusion,  or  a phrenzy.  It  assumes,  or 
takes  for  granted,  the  reality  of  its  own  creations.  Where  fancy  sees  only 
a resemblance,  imagination  beholds  identity.  Hence,  the  appropriate 
figure  of  speech  for  the  one,  is  a simile ; for  the  other,  a metaphor  or 
trope.  Donne’s  witty  comparison  of  husband  and  wife  to  a pair  of  com- 
passes, — 

“ The  one  doth  in  the  centre  sit. 

And  when  the  other  far  does  roam. 

It  leans  and  hearkens  after  it. 

And  grows  erect  as  it  comes  home  ” — 

is,  in  itself,  purely  fanciful ; for  it  is  an  avowed  comparison.  But  one  por- 
tion of  it,  — that  which  we  have  italicized,  — is  of  imagination  all-com- 
pact ; for  one  half  of  the  compasses  is  here  not  merely  fancied  to  be  a 
human  being,  but,  on  the  supposition  that  it  is  a human  being,  correspond- 
ing affections,  purposes,  and  actions  are  attributed  to  it.  So,  in  Shak- 
speare’s  magnificent  description  of  daybreak,  — 

“ See,  love  ! what  envious  streaks 
Do  lace  the  severing  clouds  in  yonder  East; 

Night’s  candles  are  burnt  out,  and  jocund  Day- 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops  ” — 

the  poet’s  mind  is  all  aglow  with  imagination,  and  the  most  daring  proso- 
popoeia becomes  the  instinctive  language  of  truth  itself.] 


THE  ASSOCIATIOX  OF  IDEAS. 


161 


It  is  well  known  to  those  who  are  in  the  least  conversant 
with  the  present  state  of  metaphysical  science,  that  this  eminent 
writer  has  attempted  to  reduce  all  the  principles  of  association 
among  our  ideas  to  three : Resemhlance,  Contiguity  in  time  and 
place,  and  Cause  and  Effect.  The  attempt  was  great,  and  worthy 
of  his  genius ; but  it  has  been  shown  by  several  writers  since 
his  time,*  that  his  enumeration  is  not  only  incomplete,  but  that 
it  is  even  indistinct,  so  far  as  it  goes. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  my  present  purpose,  that  I should 
enter  into  a critical  examination  of  this  part  of  Mr.  Hume’s 
system  ; or  that  I should  attempt  to  specify  those  principles  of 
association  which  he  has  omitted.  Indeed,  it  does  not  seem  to 
me,  that  the  problem  admits  of  a satisfactory  solution ; for  there 
is  no  possible  relation  among  the  objects  of  our  knowledge, 
which  may  not  serve  to  connect  them  together  in  the  mind  ; 
and,  therefore,  although  one  enumeration  may  be  more  compre- 
hensive than  another,  a perfectly  complete  enumeration  is 
scarcely  to  be  exjiected. 

Nor  is  it  merely  in  consequence  of  the  relations  among 
things,  that  our  notions  of  them  are  associated : they  are  fre- 
quently coupled  together  by  means  of  relations  among  the 
words  which  denote  them  ; such  as  a similarity  of  sound,  or 
other  circumstances  still  more  trifling.  The  alliteration  which 
is  so  common  in  poetry,  and  in  proverbial  sayings,  seems  to 
arise,  partly  at  least,  from  associations  of  ideas  founded  on  the 
accidental  circumstance,  of  the  two  words  which  express  them 
beginning  with  the  same  letter. 

O O 

“ But  thousands  die,  without  or  this  or  that ; 

Die,  and  endow  a college,  or  a cat.”  — Pope’s  Ep.  to  Lord  Bathurst. 

“ "Ward  tried,  on  puppies  and  the  poor,  his  drop.”  — Id.  Imitat.  of  Horace. 

“ Puffs,  powders,  patches  ; bibles,  billet-doux.”  — Kape  of  the  Lock. 

* It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Beattie,  that  something  like  an  attempt  to  enu- 
merate the  laws  of  association  is  to  be  found  in  Aristotle,  who,  in  speaking 
of  recollection,  insinuates,  with  his  usual  brevity,  that  “ the  relations,  by 
"which  we  are  led  from  one  thought  to  another,  in  tracing  out,  or  hunting 
after,”  as  he  calls  it,  “ any  particular  thought  which  does  not  immediately 
occur,  are  chiefly  three,  resemblance,  contrarietg,  aud  contiguity.” 

IT* 


162 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


This  indeed  pleases  only  on  slight  occasions,  when  it  may  be 
supposed  that  the  mind  is  in  some  degree  playful,  and  under 
the  influence  of  those  principles  of  association  which  commonly 
take  place  when  we  are  careless  and  disengaged.  Every  per- 
son must  be  offended  with  the  second  line  of  the  following 
couplet,  which  forms  part  of  a very  sublime  description  of  the 
Divine  power : — 

“ Breathes  iu  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part. 

As  full,  as  perfect,  in  a hah-  as  heart.”  — Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  i. 

To  these  observations,  it  may  be  added,  that  things  which 
have  no  known  relation  to  each  other  are  often  associated  in 
consequence  of  their  producing  similar  effects  on  the  mind. 
Some  of  the  finest  poetical  allusions  are  founded  on  this  prin- 
ciple ; and  accordingly,  if  the  reader  is  not  possessed  of  sensi- 
bility congenial  to  that  of  the  poet,  he  will  be  apt  to  overlook 
their  meaning,  or  to  censure  them  as  absurd.  To  such  a critic, 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  vindicate  the  beauty  of  the  following 
stanza,  in  an  ode  addressed  to  a lady  by  the  author  of  the 
“ Seasons : ” — 

“ 0 thou,  whose  tender,  serious  eye, 

Expressive  speaks  the  soul  I love ; 

The  gentle  azure  of  the  sky. 

The  pensive  shadows  of  the  grove.” 

The ‘principles  of  association  divided  into  tvoo  classes.  — I have 
already  said,  that  the  view  of  the  subject  which  I propose  to 
take,  does  not  require  a complete  enumeration  of  our  principles 
of  association.  There  is,  however,  an  important  distinction 
among  them,  to  which  I shall  have  occasion  frequently  to  refer ; 
and  which,  as  far  as  I know,  has  not  hitherto  attracted  the 
notice  of  philosophers.  The  relations  upon  which  some  of  them 
are  founded,  are  perfectly  obvious  to  the  mind ; those  which  are 
the  foundation  of  others,  are  discovered  only  in  consequence  of 
particular  efforts  of  attention.  Of  the  former  kind,  are  the  re- 
lations of  resemblance  and  analogy,  of  contrariety,  of  vicinity  in 
time  and  place,  and  those  which  arise  from  accidental  coinci- 
dences in  the  sound  of  different  words.  These,  in  general,  con- 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS. 


163 


nect  our  thoughts  together,  when  they  are  suffered  to  take  their 
natural  course,  and  when  we  are  conscious  of  little  or  no  active 
exertion.  Of  the  latter  kind,  are  the  relations  of  cause  and 
effect,  of  means  and  end,  of  'premises  and  conclusion  ; and  those 
others,  whieh  regulate  the  train  of  thought  in  the  mind  of  the 
philosopher  when  he  is  engaged  in  a particular  investigation. 

It  is  owing  to  this  distinction,  that  transitions,  which  would  be 
highly  offensive  in  philosophical  writing,  are  the  most  pleasing 
of  any  in  poetry.  In  the  former  species  of  composition,  we 
expect  to  see  an  author  lay  down  a distinct  plan  or  method, 
and  observe  it  rigorously ; without  allowing  himself  to  ramble 
into  digressions,  suggested  by  the  accidental  ideas  or  expres- 
sions, which  may  occur  to  him  in  his  progress.  In  that  state 
of  mind  in  which  poetry  is  read,  such  digressions  are  not  only 
agreeable,  but  necessary  to  the  effect ; and  an  arrangement 
founded  on  the  spontaneous  and  seemingly  casual  order  of  our 
thoughts,  pleases  more  than  one  suggested  by  an  accurate 
analysis  of  the  subject. 

How  absurd  would  the  long  digression  in  praise  of  in- 
dustry, in  Thomson’s  “ Autumn,”  appear,  if  it  occurred  in  a 
prose  essay!  a digression,  however,  which,  in  that  beautiful 
poem,  arises  naturally  and  insensibly  from  the  view  of  a luxu- 
riant harvest ; and  which  as  naturally  leads  the  poet  back  to 
the  point  where  his  excursion  began : — 

“ All  is  the  gift  of  industry  ; whate’er 
Exalts,  embellishes,  and  renders  life 
Delightful.  Pensive  Winter,  cheered  by  him. 

Sits  at  the  social  fire,  and  happy  hears 
Th’  excluded  tempest  idly  rave  along ; 

His  harden’d  fingers  deck  the  gaudy  Spring  ; 

Without  him  Summer  were  an  arid  waste ; 

Nor  to  th’  Autumnal  months  could  thus  transmit 
Those  full,  mature,  immeasurable  stores. 

That,  waving- round,  recall  my  wand’ring  song.” 

In  Goldsmith’s  “ Traveller,”  the  transitions  are  managed  with 
consummate  skill ; and  yet  how  different  from  that  logical 
method  which  would  be  suited  to  a philosophical  discourse  on 
the  state  of  society  in  the  different  parts  of  Europe  I Some  of 


164 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


the  finest  ai’e  suggested  by  the  associating  principle  of  contrast. 
Thus,  after  describing  the  efieminate  and  debased  Roman,  the 
poet  proceeds  to  the  Swiss : — 

“ My  soul  turn  from  them  — turn  we  to  survey 
Where  rougher  climes  a nobler  race  display.” 

And,  after  painting  some  defects  in  the  manners  of  this  gallant 
but  unrefined  people,  his  thoughts  are  led  to  those  of  the 
French: — 

“ To  kinder  skies,  where  gentler  manners  reign, 

I turn  — and  France  displays  her  bright  domain.” 

The  transition  which  occurs  in  the  following  lines,  seems  to 
be  suggested  by  the  accidental  mention  of  a word : and  is  cer- 
taiidy  one  of  the  happiest  in  our  language : — 

“ Heavens  ! how  unlike  their  Belgic  sires  of  old  ! 

Eough,  poor,  content,  ungovernably  bold  ; 

War  in  each  breast,  and  freedom  on  each  brow. 

How  much  unlike  the  sons  of  Britain  now  ! 

— Fired  at  the  sound,  my  genius  spreads  her  wing. 

And  flies,  where  Britain  courts  the  western  spring.’ 

Numberless  illustrations  of  the  same  remark  might  be  col- 
lected from  the  ancient  poets,  more  particularly  from  the 
Georgies  of  Virgil,  where  the  singular  felicity  of  the  transitions 
has  attracted  the  notice  even  of  those  who  have  been  the  least 
disposed  to  indulge  themselves  in  philosophical  refinement  con- 
cerning the  pi’inciples  of  criticism.  A celebrated  instance  of 
this  kind  occurs  in  the  end  of  the  first  book ; the  consideration 
of  the  weather  and  of  its  common  prognostics  leading  the  fancy, 
in  the  first  place,  to  those  more  extraordinary  phenomena  which, 
according  to  the  superstitious  belief  of  the  vulgar,  are  the  fore- 
runners of  political  revolutions  ; and  afterwards  to  the  death  of 
Ca:sar,  and  the  battles  of  Pharsalia  and  Philippi.  The  manner 
in  which  the  poet  returns  to  his  original  subject,  displays  that 
exquisite  art  which  is  to  be  derived  only  from  the  diligent  and 
enlightened  study  of  nature. 

“ Scilicet  et  tempus  veuiet  cum  finibus  illis 
Agricola,  in  curve  terram  molitus  aratro. 


THK  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


165 


Exesa  invenient  scabra  rubigine  pila ; 

Aut  gravibus  rastris  galeas  pulsabit  inanes, 

Gi'andiaque  effossis  mirabitur  ossa  sepulchris.” 

Ideas  are  associated  more  readily  in  the  minds  of  some  persons 
than  of  others.  — The  facility  with  which  ideas  are  associated 
in  the  mind,  is  very  different  in  different  individuals ; a circum- 
stance which,  as  I shall  afterwards  show,  lays  the  foundation  of 
remarkable  varieties  among  inen,  both  in  respect  of  genius  and 
of  character.  I am  inclined,  too,  to  think  that,  in  the  other  sex, 
(probably  in  consequence  of  early  education,)  ideas  are  more 
easily  associated  together  than  in  the  minds  of  men.  Hence 
the  liveliness  of  their  fancy,  and  the  superiority  they  possess  in 
epistolary  writing,  and  in  those  kinds  of  poetry  in  which  the 
principal  recommendations  are,  ease  of  thought  and  expression. 
Hence,  too,  the  facility  with  which  they  contract  or  loose  habits, 
and  accommodate  their  minds  to  new  situations ; and  I may  add, 
the  disposition  they  have  to  that  species  of  superstition  which  is 
founded  on  accidental  combinations  of  circumstances.  The 
influence  which  this  facility  of  association  has  on  the  power  of 
taste,  shall  be  afterwards  considered. 

HI.  Of  the  power  which  the  mind  has  over  the  train  of  its 
thoughts.  — By  means  of  the  association  of  ideas,  a constant 
current  of  thoughts,  if  I may  use  the  expression,  is  made  to 
pass  through  the  mind  while  we  are  awake.  Sometimes  the 
current  is  interrupted,  and  the  thoughts  diverted  into  a new 
channel,  in  consequence  of  the  ideas  suggested  by  other  men,  or 
of  the  objects  of  perception  with  which  we  are  surrounded.  So 
completely,  however,  is  the  mind,  in  this  particular,  subjected  to 
physical  laws,  that  it  has  been  justly  observed  by  Lord  Kaimes 
and  others,  we  cannot,  by  an  effort  of  our  will,  call  up  any  one 
thought;  and  that  the  train  of  our  ideas  depends  on  causes 
which  operate  in  a manner  inexplicable  by  us. 

This  observation,  although  it  has  been  censured  as  paradoxi- 
cal, is  almost  self-evident ; for,  to  call  up  a particular  thought 
supposes  it  to  be  already  in  the  mind.  As  I shall  have  frequent 
occasion,  however,  to  refer  to  the  observation  afterwards,  I shall 
endeavor  to  obviate  the  only  objection  which,  I think,  can  reas- 


166 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS. 


onably  be  urged  against  it ; and  which  is  founded  on  that  ope- 
ration of  the  mind  which  is  commonly  called  recollection  or 
inteyitional  memory. 

Intentional  memory  explained.  — It  is  evident,  that  befoi’e  we 
attempt  to  recollect  the  particular  circumstances  of  any  event, 
that  event  in  general  must  have  been  an  object  of  our  attention. 
We  remember  the  outlines  of  the  story,  but  cannot  at  first  give 
a complete  account  of  it.  If  we  wish  to  recall  these  circum- 
stances, there  are  only  two  ways  in  which  we  can  proceed.  Wfe 
must  either  form  diflerent  suppositions,  and  then  consider  which 
of  these  tallies  best  with  the  other  circumstances  of  the  event ; 
or,  by  revolving  in  our  mind  the  circumstances  we  remember, 
we  must  endeavor  to  excite  the  recollection  of  the  other  circum- 
stances associated  with  them.  The  first  of  these  processes  is, 
properly  speaking,  an  inference  of  reason,  and  plainly  furnishes 
no  exceiition  to  the  docti’ine  ah’eady  delivered.  We  have  an 
instance  of  the  other  mode  of  recollection,  when  we  are  at  a 
loss  for  the  beginning  of  a sentence,  in  reciting  a composition 
that  we  do  not  perfectly  remember ; in  which  case,  we  naturally 
repeat  over,  two  or  three  times,  the  concluding  words  of  the 
preceding  sentence,  in  order  to  call  up  the  other  words  which 
used  to  be  connected  with  them  in  the  memory.  In  this  in- 
stance, it  is  evident,  that  the  circumstances  we  desire  to  re- 
member are  not  recalled  to  the  mind  in  immediate  consequence 
of  an  exertion  of  volition,  but  are  suggested  by  some  other  cii’- 
cumstances  with  which  they  are  connected,  independently  of 
our  will,  by  the  laws  of  our  constitution. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  immediate  dependence  of  the 
train  of  our  thoughts  on  the  laws  of  association,  it  must  not  be 
imagined  that  the  will  possesses  no  influence  over  it.  This 
influence,  indeed,  is  not  exercised  directly  and  immediately,  as 
we  are  apt  to  suppose  on'  a superficial  view  of  the  subject : but 
it  is  nevertheless,  very  extensive  in  its  effects ; and  the  different 
degrees  in  which  it  is  possessed  by  different  individuals,  consti- 
tute some  of  the  most  striking  inequalities  among  men,  in  point 
of  intellectual  capacity. 

Power  of  the  will  over  the  thoughts.  — Of  the  powers  which 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


1G7 


the  mind  possesses  over  the  train  of  its  thoughts,  the  most 
obvious  is  its  power  of  singling  out  any  one  of  them  at  pleasure ; 
of  detaining  it ; and  of  making  it  a particular  ol)ject  of  atten- 
tion. By  doing  so,  we  not  only  stop  the  succession  that  would 
otherwise  take  place ; but,  in  consequence  of  our  bringing  to 
view  the  less  obvious  relations  among  our  ideas,  we  frequently 
divert  the  current  of  our  thoughts  into  a new  channel.  If,  for 
example,  when  I am  indolent  and  inactive,  the  name  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  accidentally  occur  to  me,  it  will  perhaps  suggest, 
one  after  another,  the  names  of  some  other  eminent  mathema- 
ticians and  astronomers,  or  some  of  his  illustrious  contemporaries 
and  friends : and  a number  of  them  may  pass  in  review  before 
me,  without  engaging  my  curiosity  in  any  considerable  degree. 
In  a different  state  of  mind,  the  name  of  Newton  will  lead  my 
thoughts  to  the  principal  incidents  of  his  life,  and  the  more 
striking  features  of  his  character : or,  if  my  mind  be  ardent  and 
vigorous,  will  lead  my  attention  to  the  sublime  discoveries  he 
made ; and  gradually  engage  me  in  some  philosophical  investi- 
gation. To  every  object,  there  are  others  which  bear  obvious 
and  striking  relations ; and  others,  also,  whose  relation  to  it 
does  not  readily  occur  to  us,  unless  we  dwell  upon  it  for  some 
time,  and  place  it  before  us  in  different  points  of  view. 

But  the  principal  power  we  possess  over  the  train  of  our  ideas, 
is  founded  on  the  influence  which  our  habits  of  thinking  have  on 
the  laws  of  association  ; an  influence  which  is  so  great,  that  we 
may  often  form  a pretty  shrewd  judgment  concerning  a man’s 
prevailing  tmm  of  thought,  from  the  transitions  he  makes  in 
conversation  or  in  writing.  It  is  well  known,  too,  that  by  means 
of  habit,  a particular  associating  principle  may  be  strengthened 
to  siich  a degree,  as  to  give  us  a command  of  all  the  different 
ideas  in  our  mind,  which  have  a certain  relation  to  each  other ; 
so  that,  when  any  one  of  the  class  occurs  to  us,  we  have  almost 
a certainty  that  it  will  suggest  the  rest.  What  confidence  in  his 
own  powers  must  a speaker  possess,  when  he  rises  without  pre- 
meditation, in  a popular  assembly,  to  amuse  his  audience  with  a 
lively  or  a humorous  speech ! Such  a confidence,  it  is  evident, 


168 


THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 


can  only  arise  from  a long  expei’ience  of  the  strength  of  par- 
ticular associating  principles. 

Habits  of  association  facilitate  the  exercise  of  various  powers 
of  mind.  — To  how  great  a degree  this  part  of  our  constitution 
may  be  influenced  by  habit,  appears  from  facts  which  are  familiar 
to  every  one.  A man  who  has  an  ambition  to  become  a punster, 
seldom  or  never  fails  in  the  attainment  of  his  object;  that  is,  he 
seldom  or  never  fails  in  acquiring  a power  which  other  men 
have  not,  of  summoning  up,  on  a jjarticular  occasion,  a number 
of  words  different  from  each  other  in  meaning,  and  resembhng 
each  other,  more  or  less,  in  sound.  I am  inclined  to  think  that 
even  genuine  wit  is  a habit  acquired  in  a similar  way ; and  that, 
although  some  individuals  may,  from  natural  constitution,  be 
more  fitted  than  others  to  acquire  this  habit ; it  is  founded  in 
every  case  on  a peculiarly  strong  association  among  certain 
classes  of  our  ideas,  which  gives  the  person  who  possesses  it,  a 
command  over  those  ideas,  which  is  denied  to  ordinary  men. 
But  there  is  no  instance  in  which  the  effects  of  habits  of  asso- 
ciation is  more  remarkable  than  m those  men  who  possess  a 
facility  of  rhyming.  That  a man  should  be  able  to  express  his 
thoughts  perspicuously  and  elegantly,  under  the  restraints  which 
rhyme  imposes,  would  appear  to  be  incredible,  if  we  did  not 
know  it  to  be  fact.  Such  a power  implies  a wonderful  com- 
mand both  of  ideas  and  of  expressions  ; and  yet  daily  experience 
shows  that  it  may  be  gained  with  very  little  practice.  Pope 
tells  us  with  respect  to  himself,  that  he  could  express  himself, 
not  only  more  concisely,  but  more  easily,  in  rhyme  than  in 
prose.* 

Nor  is  it  only  in  these  trifling  accomplishments  that  we  may 
trace  the  influence  of  habits  of  association.  In  every  insfance 


* “ When  habit  is  once  gained,  nothing  so  easy  as  practice.  Cicero 
writes,  that  Antipater,  the  Sidonian,  could  pour  forth  hexameters  extem- 
pore ; and  that,  whenever  he  chose  to  versify,  words  followed  him  of  course. 
We  may  add  to  Antipater,  the  ancient  rhajjsodists  of  the  Greeks,  and  the 
modem  improvisatori  of  the  Italians.”  — Harris’s  Phil.  Inq.  108,  110. 


■WIT. 


169 


of  invention,  either  in  the  fine  arts,  in  the  mechanical  arts,  or  in 
the  sciences,  there  is  some  new  idea,  or  some  new  combination 
of  ideas,  brought  to  light  by  the  inventor.  This,  undoubtedly, 
may  often  happen  in  a way  which  he  is  unable  to  explain : that 
is,  his  invention  may  be  suggested  to  him  by  some  lucky  thought, 
the  origin  of  which  he  is  unable  to  trace.  But  when  a man 
possesses  an  habitual  fertility  of  invention  in  any  particular  art 
or  science,  and  can  rely,  with  confidence,  on  his  inventive  powers, 
wdienever  he  is  called  upon  to  exert  them,  he  must  have  acquired, 
by  previous  habits  of  study,  a command  over  certain  classes  of 
his  ideas,  which  enables  him,  at  pleasure,  to  bring  them  under 
his  review.  The  illustration  of  these  subjects  may  throw  light 
on  some  processes  of  the  mind,  which  are  not  in  general  well 
understood : and  I shall  accordingly,  in  the  following  section, 
offer  a few  hints  with  respect  to  those  habits  of  association  which 
are  the  foundation  of  wit ; of  the  poAver  of  rhyming ; of  poetical 
fancy ; and  of  invention  in  matters  of  science. 

IV.  Illustrations  o f this  doctrine.  1.  Of  wit.  — According  to 
Locke,  Wit  consists  “ in  the  assemblage  of  ideas ; and  putting 
those  together  with  quickness  and  \ ariety,  Avherein  can  be  found 
any  resemblance  or  congruity.”  I would  add  to  this  definition, 
(rather  by  way  of  comment  than  of  amendment,)  that  wit 
implies  a power  of  calling  up  at  pleasure  the  ideas  which  it  com- 
hines ; and  I am  inclined  to  believe,  that  the  entertainment 
which  it  gives  to  the  hearer  is  founded,  in  a considerable  degree, 
on  his  surprise  at  the  command  which  the  man  of  wit  has 
acquired  over  a part  of  the  constitution,  which  is  so  little  subject 
to  the  will. 

That  the  effect  of  wit  depends  partly,  at  least,  on  the  circum- 
stance now  mentioned,  appears  evidently  from  this,  that  we  are 
more  pleased  with  a hon  mot  Avhich  occurs  in  conversation,  than 
with  one  in  print ; and  that  we  never  fail  to  receive  disgust 
from  wit,  when  we  suspect  it  to  be  premeditated.  The  pleasure, 
too,  we  receive  from  wit,  is  heightened,  when  the  original  idea 
is  started  by  one  person,  and  the  related  idea  by  another.  Dr. 
Campbell  has  remarked,  that  “ a witty  repartee  is  infinitely  more 
pleasing  than  a witty  attack ; and  that  an  allusion  wUl  appear 

15 


170 


•\VIT. 


excellent  when  throAvn  out  extempore  in  conversation,  vijich 
would  he  deemed  execrable  in  print.”  In  all  these  cases,  the 
wit  considered  absolutely  is  the  same.  The  relations  which  are 
discovered  between  the  compared  ideas  are  equally  new ; and 
yet,  as  soon  as  we  suspect  that  the  wit  was  premeditated,  the 
pleasure  we  receive  from  it  is  infinitely  diminished.  Instances 
indeed  may  be  mentioned,  in  which  we  are  pleased  with  contem- 
plating an  unexpected  relation  between  ideas,  without  any  refer- 
ence to  the  habits  of  association  in  the  mind  of  the  pex’son  who 
discovered  it.  A bon  mot  produced  at  the  game  of  cross-pur- 
poses, would  not  fail  to  create  amusement ; but  in  such  cases, 
our  pleasure  seems  cliiefly  to  arise  from  the  surprise  we  feel  at 
so  extraordinary  a coincidence  between  a question  and  an 
answer  coming  from  persons  who  had  no  direct  communication 
with  each  other. 

Of  the  effect  added  to  wit  by  the  promptitude  with  which  its 
combinations  are  formed,  Fuller  appears  to  have  had  a very 
just  idea,  fi’om  what  he  has  recoi’ded  of  the  social  hours  of  our 
two  great  English  Dramatists.  “ Jonson’s  parts  were  not  so 
ready  to  run  of  themselves,  as  able  to  answer  the  spur ; so  that 
it  may  be  truly  said  of  him,  that  he  had  an  elaborate  wit,  wrought 
out  by  his  own  industry.  Many  were  the  wit  combats  between 
him  and  Shakspeare,  which  two  I behold  like  a Spanish  great 
galleon,  and  an  English  man-of-war.  Jonson,  like  the  former, 
was  built  far  higher  in  learning ; solid,  but  slow  in  his  perform- 
ances. Shakspeare,  with  the  ‘ English  man-of-war,  lesser  in 
bulk,  but  lighter  in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  tack  about 
and  take  advantage  of  all  winds,  by  the  quickness  of  his  wit 
and  invention.” 

I before  observed,  that  the  pleasure  we  receive  from  wit  is 
increased,  when  the  two  ideas  between  which  the  relation  is  dis- 
covered, are  suggested  by  different  persons.  In  the  case  of  a 
bon  mot  occurring  in  conversation,  the  reason  of  this  is  abun- 
dantly obvious ; because,  when  the  related  ideas  are  suggested 
by  different  persons,  we  have  a proof  that  the  wit  was  not  pre- 
meditated. But  even  in  a written  composition,  we  are  much 
more  delighted  when  the  subject  was  furnished  to  the  author  by 


WIT. 


171 


another  person,  than  when  he  chooses  the  topic  on  which  he  is 
to  display  his  wit.  How  much  would  the  pleasure  we  receive 
from  the  Key  to  the  Loch  be  diminished,  if  we  suspected  that  the 
author  had  the  key  in  view  when  he  wrote  that  poem ; and  that 
he  introduced  some  expressions,  in  order  to  furnish  a subject  for 
the  wit  of  the  commentator.  How  totally  would  it  destroy  the 
pleasure  we  receive  from  a parody  on  a poem,  if  we  suspected 
that  both  were  productions  of  the  same  author?  The  truth 
seems  to  be,  that  when  both  the  related  ideas  are  suggested  by 
the  same  person,  we  have  not  a very  satisfactory  proof  of  any 
thing  uncommon  in  the  intellectual  habits  of  the  author.  We 
may  suspect  that  both  ideas  occurred  to  him  at  the  same  time  ; 
and  we  know  that,  in  the  dullest  and  most  phlegmatic  minds, 
such  extraordinary  associations  will  sometimes  take  place.  But 
when  the  subject  of  the  wit  is  furnished  by  one  person,  and  the 
wit  suggested  by  another,  we  have  a proof,  not  only  that  the 
author’s  mind  abounds  with  such  singular  associations,  but  that 
he  has  his  wit  perfectly  at  command. 

TJie  effect  of  voit  increased  hy  the  limitations  and  difficulties  of 
the  subject.  — As  an  additional  confirmation  of  these  observations, 
we  may  remai’k,  that  the  more  an  author  is  limited  by  his  sub- 
ject, the  more  we  are  pleased  with  his  wit.  And,  therefore,  the 
effect  of  wit  does  not  arise  solely  from  the  unexpected  relations 
which  it  presents  to  the  mind,  but  arises,  in  part,  from  the  sur- 
prise it  excites  at  those  intellectual  habits  which  give  it  birth. 
It  is  evident,  that  the  more  the  author  is  circumscribed  in  the 
choice  of  his  materials,  the  greater  must  be  the  command  which 
he  has  acquired  over  those  associating  iirinciples  on  which  wit 
depends,  and  of  consequence,  according  to  the  foregoing  doctrine, 
the  greater  must  be  the  surprise  and  the  pleasure  wliich  his  wit 
produces.  In  Addison’s  celebrated  verses  to  Sir  Godfrey  Knel- 
ler  on  his  picture  of  George  the  First,  in  which  he  compares 
the  painter  to  Pliidias,  and  the  subjects  of  his  pencil  to  the 
Grecian  Deities,  the  range  of  the  poet’s  Mut  was  necessarily 
confined  within  very  narrow  bounds ; and  what  principally 
delights  us  in  that  performance  is,  the  surpidsing  ease  and  felicity 
with  which  he  runs  the  parallel  between  the  English  history  and 


172 


WIT. 


the  Greek  mythology.  Of  all  the  allusions  which  the  following 
passage  contains,  there  is  not  one,  taken  singly,  of  very  extraor- 
dinary merit ; and  yet  the  effect  of  the  whole  is  uncommonly 
great,  from  the  singular  power  of  combination,  which  so  long 
and  so  difficult  an  exertion  discovers. 

“ Wise  Phidias  thus,  his  skill  to  prove, 

Thro’  many  a god  advanced  to  Jove, 

And  taught  the  polish’d  rocks  to  shine 
With  airs  and  lineaments  divine. 

Till  Greece  amaz’d  and  half  afraid, 

Th’  assembled  Deities  survey’d. 

Great  Pan,  who  wont  to  chase  the  fair, 

And  lov’d  the  spreading  oak,  was  there ; 

Old  Saturn,  too,  with  up-cast  eyes, 

Beheld  his  abdicated  skies  ; 

And  mighty  Mars,  for  war  renown’d. 

In  adamantine  armor  frown’d ; 

By  him  the  childless  Goddess  rose, 

Minerva,  studious  to  compose 

Her  twisted  threads ; the  web  she  strung. 

And  o’er  a loom  of  marble  hung ; 

Thetis,  the  troubled  ocean’s  queen. 

Match’d  with  a mortal  next  was  seen. 

Reclining  on  a funeral  urn. 

Her  short-liv’d  darling  son  to  mourn ; 

The  last  was  he,  whose  thunder  slew 
The  Titan  race,  a rebel  crew. 

That  from  a hundred  hills  ally’d. 

In  impious  league  their  King  defy’d.* 

According  to  the  view  which  I have  given  of  the  nature  of 
wit,  the  pleasure  we  derive  from  that  assemblage  of  ideas  which 


* [As  this  parallel  between  English  histoiy  and  Grecian  mythology  may 
not  be  as  clear  and  intelligible  to  American  as  to  English  pupils,  and  as 
some  of  the  comparisons,  in  spite  of  Stewart’s  commendation  of  them, 
may  even  appear  dull  and  far-fetched,  a few  words  of  commentary  may 
not  seem  useless.  “ Groat  Pan  ” stands  for  Charles  II.,  who  once  escaped 
his  pursuers  by  ensconcing  himself  in  an  oak  tree,  and  whose  loves  were 
more  numerous  than  select.  James  II.,  who  feebly  lost  a throne  which, 
in  the  gentle  but  lying  phrase  of  the  day,  he  was  said  to  have  “ abdicated,” 
is  here  likened  to  Saturn.  “ Mighty  Mars  ” is  William  of  Orange,  “ re 


RHYME. 


173 


it  presents,  is  greatly  heightened  and  enlivened  by  our  surprise 
at  the  command  displayed  over  a part  of  the  constitution,  which, 
in  our  own  case,  we  find  to  be  so  little  subject  to  the  will.  We 
consider  wit  as  a sort  of  feat  or  trick  of  intellectual  dexterity, 
analogous,  in  some  respects,  to  the  extraordinary  performances 
of  jugglers  and  rope-dancers ; and,  in  both  cases,  the  pleasure 
we  receive  from  the  exhibition,  is  explicable  in  'part,  (I,  by  no 
means,  say  entirely^  on  the  same  principles. 

If  these  remarks  be  just,  it  seems  to  follow  as  a consequence, 
that  those  men  who  are  most  deficient  in  the  power  of  prompt 
combination,  will  be  most  poignantly  affected  by  it,  when  exerted 
at  the  will  of  another : and  therefore,  the  charge  of  jealousy 
and  envy  brought  against  rival  wits,  when  disposed  to  look  grave 
at  each  other’s  jests,  may  perhaps  be  obviated  in  a way  less 
injurious  to  their  character. 

The  same  remarks  suggest  a limitation,  or  rather  an  explana- 
tion, of  an  assertion  of  Lord  Chesterfield’s,  that  “ genuine  wit 
never  made  any  man  laugh  since  the  creation  of  the  world.” 
The  observation,  I believe  to  be  just,  if  by  genuine  wit,  we 
mean  wdt  wholly  divested  of  every  mixture  of  humor : and  if 
by  laughter,  we  mean  that  convulsive  and  noisy  agitation  which 
is  excited  by  the  ludicrous.  But  there  is  unquestionably  a smile 
appropriated  to  the  flashes  of  wit ; a smile  of  surprise  and 
wonder ; — not  altogether  unlike  the  effect  produced  on  the  mind 
and  the  countenance  by  a feat  of  legerdemain,  when  executed 
with  uncommon  success. 

2.  Of  rhyme.  — The  pleasure  we  receive  from  rhyme,  seems 
also  to  arise,  partly,  from  our  surprise  at  the  command  which 


Downed  ” for  his  long  wars  against  Louis  XIV ; while  his  consort  and 
the  sharer  of  his  throne,  the  childless  Mary,  stands  for  Minerva.  Thetis 
stands  for  Queen  Anne,  who  was  “ matched  with  a mortal”  — one  who 
was  not  a king,  though  married  to  a queen  — Prince  George  of  Denmark ; 
her  “ short-lived  darling  son  ” was  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  died  at 
the  age  of  twelve  years.  “ The  last  ” was  George  I.,  about  as  poor  a 
representative  of  “ Jove  ” as  could  be  imagined ; the  Highlanders  — i.  e. 
the  rebel  “Titans,”  from  “a  hundred  hills”  — attempted  in  vain  to 
dethrone  him  in  1715.] 


15* 


174 


RHYME. 


the  poet  must  have  acquired  over  the  train  of  his  ideas,  in  order 
to  be  able  to  express  himself  with  elegance,  and  the  appearance 
of  ease,  under  the  restraint  ^yhich  rhyme  imposes.  In  witty  or 
in  humorous  performances,  this  surprise  serves  to  enliven  that 
which  the  wit  or  tlie  humor  produces,  and  renders  its  effects 
moi’e  sensible.  How  flat  do  the  liveliest  and  most  ludicrous 
tlioughts  appear  in  blank  verse  ? ’And  how  wonderfully  is  the 
wit  of  Pope  heightened,  by  the  easy  and  happy  rhymes  in  which 
it  is  expressed? 

Other  sources  of  pleasure- in  wit  and  in  rhyme.  — It  must  not, 
however,  be  imagined,  either  in  the  case  of  wit  or  of  rhyme, 
that  the  pleasure  arises  solely  from  our  surprise  at  the  uncom- 
mon habits  of  association  which  the  author  discovers.  In  the 
former  case,  there  must  be  presented  to  the  mind,  an  unexpected 
analogy  or  relation  between  different  ideas ; and  perhaps  other 
circumstances  must  concur  to  render  the  wit  perfect.  If  the 
combination  has  no  otlier  merit  than  that  of  bringing  together 
two  ideas  which  never  met  before,  we  may  be  surprised  at  its 
oddity,  but 'we  do  not  consider  it  as  a proof  of  wit.  On  the 
contrary,  the  want  of  any  analogy  or  relation  between  the  com- 
bined ideas,  leads  us  to  suspect,  that  the  one  did  not  suggest  the 
other  in  consequence  of  any  habits  of  association ; but  that  the 
two  were  brought  together  by  study,  or  by  mere  accident.  All 
that  I affirm  is,  that  when  the  analogy  or  relation  is  pleasing  in 
itself,  our  pleasure  is  heightened  by  our  surprise  at  the  author’s 
habits  of  association  when  compared  with  our  own.  In  the  case 
of  rliyme,  too,  there  is  undoubtedly  a certain  degree  of  pleasure 
arising  from  the  recurrence  of  the  same  sound.  We  frequently 
observe  children  amuse  themselves  with  repeating  over  single 
words  which  rhyme  together ; and  the  lower  people,  who  derive 
little  pleasure  from  poetry  excepting  in  so  far  as  it  affects  the 
ear,  are  so  pleased  with  the  echo  of  the  rhymes,  that  when  they 
read  verses  where  it  is  not  perfect,  they  are  apt  to  supply  the 
poet’s  defects  by  violating  the  common  rules  of  pronunciation. 
This  pleasure,  however,  is  heightened  by  our  admiration  at  the 
miraculous  powers  which  the  poet  must  have  acquired  over 
the  train  of  his  ideas,  and  over  all  the  modes  of  expression 


-at 


RHYME. 


175 

which  the  language  affords,  in  order  to  convey  instruction  and 
entertainment,  without  transgressing  the  established  laws  of 
regular  versification.  In  some  of  the  lower  kinds  of  poetry ; 
for  example,  in  acrostics,  and  in  the  lines  which  are  adapted  to 
houts-rimes,  the  merit  lies  entirely  in  this  command  of  thought 
and  expression ; or,  in  other  words,  in  a command  of  ideas 
founded  on  extraordinary  habits  of  association.  Even  some 
authors  of  a superior  class  occasionally  show  an  inclination  to 
display  their  knack  at  rhyming,  by  introducing,  at  the  end  of  the 
first  line  of  a couplet,  some  word  to  which  the  language  hardly 
affords  a corresponding  sound.  Swift,  in  his  more  trifling 
pieces,  abounds  with  instances  of  this ; and  in  Hudibras,  when 
the  author  uses  his  double  and  triple  rhymes,  many  couplets 
have  no  merit  whatever  but  what  arises  from  difficulty  of  exe- 
cution. 

Chief  pleasure  derived  from  rhymes.  — The  pleasure  we  receive 
from  rhyme  in  serious  compositions,  arises  from  a combination 
of  different  circumstances  which  my  present  subject  does  not 
lead  me  to  investigate  particularly.*  I am  persuaded,  however, 
that  it  arises,  in  part,  from  our  surprise  at  the  poets  habits  of 
association,  which  enable  him  to  convey  his  thoughts  with  ease 
and  beauty,  notwithstanding  the  narrow  limits  within  which  his 
choice  of  expression  is  confined.  One  proof  of  this  is,  that  if 


* In  elegiac  poetry,  the  occurrence  of  the  same  sound,  and  the  uniform- 
ity in  the  structure  of  the  versification  which  this  necessarily  occasions, 
are  peculiarly  suited  to  the  inactivity  of  the  mind,  and  to  the  slow  and 
equable  succession  of  its  ideas,  when  under  the  influence  of  tender  or 
melancholy  passions  ; and  accordingly,  in  such  cases,  even  the  Latin  poets, 
though  the  genius  of  their  language  be  very  ill  fitted  for  compositions  in 
rhyme,  occasionally  indulge  themselves  in  something  very  nearly  approach- 
ing to  it ; — 

“ Menmona  si  mater,  mater  ploravit  Achillem, 

Et  tangant  magnas  tristia  fata  Deas  ; 

Elebilis  indignos  Elegeia  solve  capillos. 

Ah  nimis  ex  vero  nunc  tibi  nomen  erit.” 


Many  other  instances  of  the  same  kind  might  be  produced  from  the 
elegiac  verses  of  Grid  and  Tibullus. 


176 


RHYME. 


there  appear  any  mark  of  constraint,  either  in  the  ideas  or  in  the 
expression,  our  pleasure  is  proportionally  diminished.  The 
thoughts  must  seem  to  suggest  each  other,  and  the  rhymes  to  be 
only  an  accidental  circumstance.  The  same  remark  may  be 
made  on  the  measure  of  the  verse.  When  in  its  greatest  per- 
fection, it  does  not  appear  to  be  the  result  of  labor,  but  to  be 
dictated  by  nature,  or  prompted  bj^  inspiration.  In  Pope’s  best 
verses,  the  idea  is  expressed  with  as  little  inversion  of  style,  and 
with  as  much  conciseness,  precision,  and  propriety,  as  the  author 
could  have  attained,  had  he  been  writing  prose : without  any 
apj)arent  exertion  on  his  part,  the  words  seem  spontaneously,  to 
arrange  themselves  in  the  most  musical  numbers. 

“ While  still  a child,  nor  yet  a fool  to  fame, 

I lisp’d  in  numbers,  for  the  numbers  came.” 

This  facility  of  versification,  it  is  true,  may  be,  and  probably 
is,  in  most  cases,  only  apparent ; and  it  is  reasonable  to  think, 
that  in  the  most  perfect  poetical  productions,  not  only  the  choice 
of  words,  but  the  choice  of  ideas,  is  influenced  by  the  rhymes. 
In  a jtrose  composition,  the  author  holds  on  in  a direct  course, 
according  to  the  plan  he  has  previously  formed ; but  in  a poem, 
the  rhymes  which  occur  to  him  are  perpetually  diverting  him 
to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  by  suggesting  ideas  which  do 
not  naturally  rise  out  of  his  subject.  This,  I presume,  is  But- 
ler’s meaning  in  the  following : — 

“ Ehymes  the  rudder  are  of  verses. 

With  which,  like  ships,  they  steer  their  courses.” 

But  although  this  may  be  the  case  in  fact,  the  poet  must  employ 
all  his  art  to  conceal  it : insomuch  that  if  he  finds  himself  under 
a neces.sity  to  introduce,  on  account  of  the  rhymes,  a superfluous 
idea,  or  an  awkward  expression,  he  must  place  it  in  the  first 
line  of  the  couplet,  and  not  in  the  second ; for  the  reader,  natu- 
rally presuming  that  the  lines  were  composed  in  the  order  in 
which  the  author  arranges  them,  is  more  apt  to  suspect  the 
second  line  to  be  accommodated  to  the  first,  than  the  first  to  the 
second.  And  this  slight  artifice  is,  in  general,  sufficient  to 
impose  on  that  degi’ee  of  attention  with  wliich  poetry  is  read. 


POETICAL  FANCY. 


177 


Who  can  doubt  that,  in  the  following  lines,  Pope  wrote  the  first 
for  the  sake  of  the  second  ? 

“A  wit’s  a feather,  and  a chief’s  a rod  ; 

An  honest  man ’s  tlie  noblest  work  of  God.” 

Were  the  first  of  these  lines,  or  a line  equally  unmeaning,  placed 
last,  the  couplet  would  have  appeared  execrable  to  a person  of 
the  most  moderate  taste. 

Why  alliteration  is  introduced.  — It  affords  a strong  con- 
firmation of  the  foregoing  observations,  that  the  poets  of 
some  nations  have  delighted  in  the  practice  of  alliteration, 
as  well  as  of  rhyme ; and  have  ever  considered  it  as  an  essen- 
tial circumstance  in  versification.  Dr.  Beattie  observes,  that 
“ some  ancient  English  poems  are  more  distinguished  by 
alliteration,  than  by  any  other  poetical  contrivance.  In  the 
works  of  Langland,  even  when  no  regard  is  had  to  rhyme, 
and  but  little  to  a rude  sort  of  anapestic  measure,  it  seems 
to  have  been  a rule,  that  three  words,  at  least,  of  each  line 
should  begin  with  the  same  letter.”  A late  author  informs 
us,  that,  in  the  Icelandic  poetry,  alliteration  is  considered  as  a 
circumstance  no  less  essential  than  rhyme.  He  mentions  also 
several  other  restraints,  which  must  add  wonderfully  to  the 
difficulty  of  versification ; and  which  appear  to  us  to  be  per- 
fectly arbitrary  and  capricious.  If  that  really  be  the  case,  the 
whole  pleasure  of  the  reader  or  hearer  ai’ises  from  his  surprise 
at  the  facihty  of  the  poet’s  composition  under  these  complicated 
restraints ; that  is,  from  his  surprise  at  the  command  which  the 
poet  has  acquired  over  his  thoughts  and  expressions.  In  our 
rhyme,  I acknowledge  that  the  coincidence  of  sound  is  agree- 
able in  itself ; and  only  affirm,  that  the  pleasure  which  the  ear 
receives  from  it,  is  heightened  by  the  other  consideration. 

3.  Of  poetical  fancy.  — There  is  another  habit  of  association 
which,  in  some  men,  is  very  remarkable ; that  which  is  the  foun- 
dation of  poetical  fancy : a talent  which  agrees  with  wit  in  some 
circumstances,  but  which  differs  from  it  essentially  in  others. 

The  pleasure  we  receive  from  wit,  agrees  in  one  particular 
with  the  pleasure  which  arises  from  poetical  allusions ; that  in 


178 


POETICAL  FANCr. 


both  cases,  we  are  pleased  with  contemplating  an  analogy 
between  two  different  subjects.  But  they  differ  in  this,  that  the 
man  of  wit  has  no  other  aim  than  to  combine  analogous  ideas  ;* 
whereas  no  allusion  can,  with  propriety,  have  a place  in  serious 
poetry,  iinless  it  either  illustrate  or  adorn  the  principal  subject. 
If  it  has  both  these  recommendations,  the  allusion  is  perfect. 
If  it  has  neither,  as  is  often  the  case  with  the  allusions  of  Cow- 
ley and  of  Young,  the  fancy  of  the  poet  degenerates  into  wit. 

If  these  observations  be  well  founded,  they  suggest  a rule 
with  respect  to  poetical  allusions,  which  has  not  always  been 
sufficiently  attended  to.  It  frequently  happens,  that  two  subjects 
bear  an  analogy  to  each  other  in  more  respects  than  one  ; and 
where  such  can  be  found,  they  undoubtedly  furnish  the  most 
favorable  of  all  occasions  for  the  display  of  wit.  But,  in  sei’ious 
poetry,  I am  inclined  to  think,  that  however  striking  these 
analogies  may  be,  and  although  each  of  them  might  with  pro- 
priety, be  made  the  foundation  of  a separate  allusion,  it  is 
improper,  in  the  course  of  the  same  allusion,  to  include  more 
than  one  of  them;  as,  by  doing  so,  an  author  discovers  an 
affectation  of  wit,  or  a desire  of  tracing  analogies,  instead  of 
illusti-ating  or  adorning  the  subject  of  his  composition.! 

Why  poetical  fancy  pleases.  — I formerly  defined  fancy  to  be 


* I speak  here  of  pure  and  unmixed  wit ; and  not  of  wit  blended,  as  it 
is  most  commonly,  with  some  degree  of  humor. 

t In  the  following  stanza  of  Shenstone,  for  example. 

How  pale  was  then  his  true-love’s  cheek. 

When  Jemmy’s  sentence  reached  her  ear  ! 

For  never  yet  did  Alpine  snows 
So  pale,  or  yet  so  chill  appear  ; ” 

the  double  allusion  unquestionably  boi'ders  on  conceit.  The  same  double 
allusion  occurs  in  the  translation  of  Mallet’s  “ William  and  Margaret,”  by 
Vincent  Bourne, 

“ Candidior  nive,  frigidiorque  manus.” 

How  inferior  in  pathetic  simplicity  to  the  original, 

Aud  clay  cold  was  the  lily  hand,  etc. 


POETICAL  FANCY. 


179 


a poioer  of  associating  ideas  according  to  relations  of  resem~ 
Uance  and  analogy.  This  definition  will  probably  be  thought 
too  general ; and  to  approach  too  near  to  that  given  of  wit.  In 
order  to  discover  the  necessary  limitations,  we  shall  considei 
what  the  circumstances  ai’e,  wdiich  please  us  in  poetical  allu 
sions.  As  these  allusions  are  suggested  by  fancy,  and  are  tht 
most  striking  instances  in  which  it  displays  itself,  the  received 
rules  of  critics  with  respect  to  them  may  throw  some  light  or 
the  mental  power  which  gives  them  birth. 

1.  An  allusion  pleases,  by  illustratmg  a subject  comparatively 
obscure.  Hence,  I apprehend,  it  will  be  found  that  allusions 
from  the  intellectual  world  to  the  material,  are  more  pleasing, 
than  from  the  material  world  to  the  intellectual.  Mason,  in  his 
Ode  to  Memory,  compares  the  influence  of  that  faculty  over 
our  ideas,  to  the  authority  of  a general  over  his  troops  ; 

“ thou,  whose  sway 

The  throng’d  ideal  hosts  obey  ; 

Who  bidst  their  ranks  now  vanish,  now  appear  • 

Flame  in  the  van,  or  darken  in  the  rear.” 

Would  the  allusion  have  been  equally  pleasing,  from  a general 
marshalling  his  soldiers,  to  memory  and  the  succession  of  ideas  ? 

The  effect  of  a literal  and  spiritless  translation  of  a work  of 
genius,  has  been  compared  to  that  of  the  figures  which  we  see, 
when  we  look  at  the  wrong  side  of  a beautiful  piece  of  tapestry. 
The  allusion  is  ingenious  and  happy ; but  the  pleasure  wdiich 
we  receive  from  it  arises,  not  merely  from  the  analogy  which  it 
})resents  to  us,  but  from  the  illustration  which  it  affords  of  the 
author’s  idea.  No  one,  surely,  in  speaking  of  a piece  of  tapes- 
try, would  think  of  comparing  the  difference  between  its  sides, 
to  that  between  an  original  composition  and  a literal  translation. 

Cicero,  and  after  him  Mr.  Locke,  in  illustrating  the  dlfiiculty 
of  attending  to  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness,  have  com- 
pared the  mind  to  the  eye,  wdiich  sees  every  object  around  it, 
but  is  invisible  to  itself.  To  have  compared  the  eye,  in  this 
respect,  to  the  mind,  would  have  been  absurd. 

]\L-.  Pope’s  comparison  of  the  progress  of  youthful  curiosity, 
in  the  pursuits  of  science,  to  that  of  a traveller  among  the  Alps, 


180 


POETICAL  FA^Cr. 


has  been  much,  and  justly,  admired.  How  would  the  beauty  of 
the  allusion  have  been  diminished,  if  the  Alps  had  furnished 
the  original  subject,  and  not  the  illustration  ! 

But  although  this  rule  holds  in  general,  I acknowledge,  that 
instances  may  be  produced,  from  our  most  celebrated  poetical 
performances,  of  allusions  from  material  objects,  both  to  the 
intellectual  and  the  moral  worlds.  These,  however,  are  com- 
paratively few  in  number,  and  are  not  to  be  found  in  descriptive 
or  in  didactic  works ; but  in  compositions  written  under  the 
influence  of  some  particular  passion,  or  which  are  meant  to  ex- 
press some  peculiarity  in  the  mind  of  the  author.  Thus,  a 
melancholy  man  who  has  met  with  many  misfortunes  in  life, 
will  be  apt  to  moralize  on  every  physical  event,  and  every  ap- 
pearance of  nature ; because  his  attention  dwells  more  habitu- 
ally on  human  life  and  conduct,  than  on  the  material  objects 
around  him.  This  is  the  case  with  the  banished  Duke,  in 
Shakspeare’s  As  you  like  it ; who,  in  the  language  of  that  poet, 

“ Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 

Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing.” 

But  this  is  plainly  a distempered  state  of  the  mind ; and  the 
allusions  please,  not  so  much  by  the  analogies  they  present,  as 
by  the  picture  they  give  of  the  character  of  the  person  to 
whom  they  have  occurred. 

2.  An  allusion  pleases,  by  presenting  a new  and  beautiful 
image  to  the  mind.  The  analogy  or  the  resemblance  between 
this  image  and  the  principal  subject,  is  agreeable  of  itself,  and 
IS  indeed  necessary,  to  furnish  an  apology  for  the  trp,nsition 
which  the  writer  makes ; but  the  pleasure  is  wonderfully  height- 
ened, when  the  new  image  thus  presented  is  a beautiful  one. 
The  following  allusion,  in  one  of  Mr.  Home’s  tragedies,  appears 
to  me  to  unite  almost  every  excellence  : — 

“ Hope  and  fear  alternate  sway'd  his  breast ; 

Like  light  and  shade  upon  a waving  field, 

Coursing  each  other;  when  the  flying  clouds 
Now  bide,  and  now  reveal,  the  sun.” 

Here  the  analogy  is  remarkably  perfect;  not  only  between 


INVENTION. 


181 


light  and  hope,  and  between  darkness  and  fear ; but  between 
the  rapid  succession  of  light  and  shade,  and  the  momentary 
influences  of  these  opposite  emotions ; while  at  the  same  time, 
the  new  image  which  is  presented  to  us,  recalls  one  of  the  most 
pleasing  and  impressive  incidents  in  rural  scenery. 

The  foregoing  observations  suggest  a reason  why  the  princi- 
pal stores  of  fancy  are  commonly  supposed  to  be  borrowed 
from  the  material  world.  Wit  has  a more  extensive  province, 
and  delights  to  display  its  power  of  prompt  and  unexpected 
combinations  over  all  the  various  classes  of  our  ideas ; but  the 
favorite  excursions  of  fancy  are  from  intellectual  and  moral 
subjects  to  the  appearances  with  which  our  senses  are  conver- 
sant. The  truth  is,  that  such  allusions  please  more  than  any 
others  in  poetry.  According  to  this  limited  idea  of  fancy,  it 
presupposes,  where  it  is  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree,  an  ex- 
tensive observation  of  natural  objects,  and  a mind  susceptible 
of  strong  impressions  from  them.  It  is  thus  only  that  a stock 
of  images  can  be  acquired ; and  that  these  images  will  be  ready 
to  present  themselves,  whenever  any  analogous  subject  occurs. 
And  hence  probably  it  is,  that  poetical  genius  is  almost  always 
united  with  an  exquisite  sensibility  to  the  beauties  of  nature. 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  fancy,  it  may  not  be  improper 
to  remai’k  that  its  two  qualities  are,  liveliness  and  luxuriancjj. 
The  word  lively  refers  to  the  quickness  of  the  association.  The 
word  rich,  or  luxuriant,  to  the  variety  of  associated  ideas. 

4.  Of  invention  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  — To  these  powers 
of  wit  and  fancy,  that  of  invention  in  the  arts  and  sciences  has 
a striking  resemblance.  Like  them,  it  implies  a command  over 
certain  classes  of  ideas,  which,  in  ordinary  men,  are  not  equally 
subject  to  the  will ; and  like  them,  too,  it  is  the  result  of  acquired 
habits,  and  not  the  original  gift  of  nature. 

Of  the  process  of  the  mind  in  scientific  invention,  I propose 
afterwards  to  treat  fully  under  the  article  of  reasoning  ; and  I 
shall  therefore  confine  myself  at  present  to  a few  detached  re- 
marks upon  some  views  of  the  subject  which  are  suggested  by 
the  foregoing  inquiries. 

Difference  between  invention  and  discovery.  — Before  we 
16 


182 


INVENTION. 


proceed,  it  may  be  proper  to  take  notice  of  the  distinction  be- 
tween invention  and  discovery.  The  object  of  the  former,  as 
has  been  frequently  remarked,  is  to  produce  something  which 
had  no  existence  before ; that  of  the  latter,  to  bring  to  light 
something  which  did  exist,  but  which  was  concealed  from  com- 
mon observation.  Thus  we  say,  Otto  Guerricke  invented  the 
air-pump;  Sanctorius  invented  the  thermometer  ; Newton  and 
Gregory  invented  the  reflecting  telescope ; Galileo  discovered 
the  solar  spots  ; and  Harvey  discovered  the  circulation  of  the 
blood.  It  appears,  therefore,  that  improvements  in  the  arts  are 
properly  called  inventions,  and  that  facts  brought  to  light  by 
means  of  observation  are  properly  called  discoveries. 

Agreeable  to  this  analogy  is  the  use  which  we  make  of  these 
words,  when  we  apply  them  to  subjects  purely  intellectual.  As 
truth  is  eternal  and  immutable,  and  has  no  dependence  on  our 
belief  or  disbelief  of  it,  a person  who  brings  to  light  a truth 
formerly  unknown  is  said  to  make  a discovery.  A person,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  contrives  a new  method  of  discovering 
truth,  is  called  an  inventor.  Pythagoras,  we  say,  discovered 
the  forty-seventh  proposition  of  Euclid’s  first  book ; Newton 
discovered  the  binomial  theorem ; but  he  invented  the  method 
of  prime  and  ultimate  ratios,  and  he  invented  the  method  of 
fluxions. 

In  general,  every  advancement  in  knowledge  is  considered  as  a 
discovery ; every  contrivance  hy  ivhich  we  yroduce  an  effect,  or 
accomplish  an  end,  is  considered  as  an  invention.  Discoveries 
in  science,  therefore,  unless  they  are  made  by  accident,  imply 
the  exercise  of  invention  ; and  accordingly,  the  word  invention  is 
commonly  used  to  express  originality  of  genius  in  the  sciences 
as  well  as  in  the  arts.  It  is  in  this  general  sense  that  I employ 
it  in  the  following  observations. 

How  inventions  are  made.  — It  was  before  remarked,  that,  in 
every  instance  of  invention,  there  is  some  new  idea,  or  some  new 
combination  of  ideas,  which  is  brought  to  light  by  the  inventor ; 
and  that,  although  this  may  sometimes  happen  in  a way  which 
he  is  unable  to  explain,  yet  when  a man  possesses  an  habitual 
fertility  of  invention  in  any  particular  art  or  science,  and  can 


INVENTION. 


183 


rely  witli  confidence  on  his  inventive  pov^ers  whenever  he  is 
called  upon  to  exert  them,  he  must  have  acquired,  by  previous 
habits  of  study,  a command  over  those  classes  of  his  ideas  which 
are  subservient  to  the  ■particular  effort  that  be  wishes  to  make. 
In  what  manner  this  command  is  acquired,  it  is  not  possible, 
perhaps,  to  explain  completely ; but  it  appears  to  me  to  be 
chiefly  in  the  two  following  ways.  In  the  frst  place,  by  his 
habits  of  speculation,  he  may  have  arranged  his  knowledge  in 
such  a manner  as  may  render  it  easy  for  him  to  combine,  at 
pleasure,  all  the  various  ideas  in  his  mind  which  have  any  re- 
lation to  the  subject  about  which  he  is  occupied : or,  secondly^ 
he  may  have  learned  by  experience  certain  general  rules,  by 
means  of  which  he  can  direct  the  train  of  his  thougbt-s  into 
those  channels,  in  which  the  ideas  he  is  in  quest  of  may  be 
most  likely  to  occur  to  him. 

I.  The  former  of  these  observations  I shall  not  stop  to  illus- 
trate particularly  at  present,  as  the  same  subject  will  occur 
afterwards  under  the  article  of  memory.  It  is  sufficient  for  my 
purpose,  in  this  chapter,  to  remark,  that  as  habits  of  speculation 
have  a tendency  to  classify  our  ideas,  by  leading  us  to  refer 
particular  facts  and  particular  truths  to  general  principles,  and 
as  it  is  from  an  approximation  and  comparison  of  related  ideas 
that  new  discoveries  in  most  instances  result,  the  knowledge  of 
the  philosopher,  even  supposing  that  it  is  not  more  extensive,  is 
arranged  in  a manner  much  more  favorable  to  invention  than 
in  a mind  unaccustomed  to  system. 

How  much  invention  depends  on  a proper  combination  of  the 
materials  of  our  knowledge,  appears  from  the  resources  which 
occur  to  men  of  the  lowest  degree  of  ingenuity,  when  they  are 
pressed  by  any  alarming  difficulty  and  danger,  and  from  the 
unexpected  exertions  made  by  very  ordinary  characters,  when 
called  to  situations  which  rouse  their  latent  powers.  In  such 
cases,  I take  for  granted,  that  necessity  operates  in  producing 
invention,  chiefly  by  concentrating  the  attention  of  the  mind  to 
one  set  of  ideas,  by  leading  us  to  view  these  in  every  light,  and 
to  combine  them  variously  with  each  other.  As  the  same  idea 
may  be  connected  with  an  infinite  variety  of  others  by  different 


184 


INVENTION. 


relations,  It  may,  according  to  circumstances,  at  one  time  suggest 
one  of  these  ideas,  and  at  another  time,  a different  one.  When 
we  dwell  long  on  the  same  idea,  we  obtain  all  the  others  to 
which  it  is  any -way  related,  and  thus  are  furnished  with  ma- 
terials on  which  our  powers  of  judgment  and  reasoning  may  be 
employed.  The  effect  of  the  division  of  labor  in  multiplying 
mechanical  contrivances  is  to  be  explained  partly  on  the  same 
principle.  It  limits  the  attention  to  a particular  subject,  and 
familiax’izes  to  the  mind  all  the  possible  combinations  of  ideas 
which  have  any  relation  to  it. 

How  invention  differs  from  wit.  — These  observations  suggest 
a remarkable  difference  between  invention  and  wit.  The  former 
depends,  in  most  instances,  on  a combination  of  those  ideas, 
which  are  connected  by  the  less  obvious  principles  of  associ- 
ation ; and  it  may  be  called  forth  in  almost  any  mind  by  the 
pressure  of  external  circumstances.  The  ideas  which  must  be 
combined,  in  order  to  jiroduce  the  latter,  are  chiefly  such  as  are 
associated  by  those  slighter  connections,  which  take  place  when 
the  mind  is  careless  and  disengaged.  “ If  you  have  real  wit,” 
says  Lord  Chesterfield,  “ it  will  flow  spontaneously,  and  you 
need  not  aim  at  it ; for  in  that  case,  the  rule  of  the  gospel  is 
reversed;  and  it  will  prove,  seek,  and  you  shall  not  find.” 
Agreeably  to  this  observation,  wit  is  promoted  by  a certain 
degree  of  intoxication,  which  prevents  the  exercise  of  that  at- 
tention which  is  necessary  for  invention  in  matters  of  science. 
Hence  too  it  is,  that  those  who  have  the  reputation  of  wits,  are 
commonly  men  confident  in  their  own  powers,  who  allow  the 
train  of  their  ideas  to  follow,  in  a great  measure,  its  natural 
course,  and  hazard,  in  company,  every  thing,  good  or  bad,  that 
occurs  to  them.  Men  of  modesty  and  taste  seldom  attempt  wit 
in  a promiscuous  society ; or  if  they  are  forced  to  make  such  an 
exertion,  they  are  seldom  successful.  Such  men,  however,  in 
the  circle  of  their  friends,  to  whom  they  can  unbosom  them- 
selves without  reserve,  are  frequently  the  most  amusing  and  the 
most  interesting  of  companions  ; as  the  vivacity  of  their  wit  is 
tempered  by  a correct  judgment  and  refined  manners ; and  as 
its  effect  is  heightened  by  that  sensibility  and  delicacy,  with 


INVENTION. 


185 


which  we  so  rarely  find  it  accompanied  in  the  common  inter- 
course of  life. 

When  a man  of  wit  makes  an  exertion  to  distinguish  himself, 
his  sallies  are  commonly  too  far-fetched  to  please.  He  brings 
his  mind  into  a state  approaching  to  that  of  the  inventor,  and 
becomes  rather  ingenious  than  witty.  This  is  often  the  case 
with  the  writers  whom  Johnson  distinguishes  by  the  name  of 
the  metaphysical  poets. 

Those  jiowers  of  invention,  which  necessity  occasionally  calls 
forth  in  uncultivated  minds,  some  individuals  possess  habitually. 
The  related  ideas  which,  in  the  case  of  the  former,  are  brought 
together  by  the  slow  etForts  of  attention  and  recollection,  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  latter,  in  consequence  of  a more  system- 
atical arrangement  of  their  knowledge.  The  instantaneousness 
with  which  such  remote  combinations  are  effected,  sometimes 
appear  so  wonderful,  that  we  are  apt  to  ascribe  it  to  something 
like  inspiration ; but  it  must  lie  remembered,  that  when  any 
subject  strongly  and  habitually  occupies  the  thoughts,  it  gives 
us  an  interest  in  the  observation  of  the  most  trivial  circum- 
stances which  we  suspect  to  have  any  relation  to  it,  however 
distant ; and  by  thus  rendering  the  common  objects  and  occur- 
rences which  the  accidents  of  life  present  to  us,  subservient  to 
one  particular  employment  of  the  intellectual  powers,  establishes 
in  the  memory  a connection  between  our  favorite  pursuit,  and 
all  the  materials  with  which  experience  and  reflection  have  sup 
plied  us  for  the  further  prosecution  of  it. 

II.  Inventions  facilitated  hy  general  rules.  — I observed,  in 
the  second  place,  that  invention  may  be  facilitated  by  general 
rules,  which  enable  the  inventor  to  direct  the  train  of  his 
thoughts  into  particular  channels.  These  rules  (to  ascertain 
which  ought  to  be  one  principal  object  of  the  logician)  will 
afterwards  fall  under  my  consideration,  when  I come  to  ex- 
amine those  intellectual  processes  which  are  subservient  to  the 
discovery  of  truth.  At  present,  I shall  confine  myself  to  a few 
general  remarks ; in  stating  which,  I have  no  other  aim  than  to 
show,  to  how  great  a degree  invention  depends  on  cultivation 

16* 


186 


INVKNTION. 


and  habit,  even  In  those  sciences  in  whicli  it  is  generally  sup- 
j)Osed  that  every  thing  depends  on  natural  genius. 

"When  we  consider  the  geometrical  discoveries  of  the  ancients, 
in  the  form  in  which  they  are  exhibited  in  the  greater  part  of 
the  works  which  have  survived  to  our  times,  it  is  seldom  pos- 
sible for  us  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  they  were  led  to  their 
conclusions;  and,  indeed,  the  objects  of  this  science  are  so 
unlike  those  of  all  others,  that  it  is  not  unnatural  for  a person, 
when  he  enters  on  the  study,  to  be  dazzled  by  its  novelty,  and 
to  form  an  exaggerated  conception  of  the  genius  of  those  men 
who  first  brought  to  light  such  a variety  of  truths,  so  profound 
and  so  remote  from  the  ordinary  course  of  our  speculations. 
We  find,  however,  that,  even  at  the  time  when  the  ancient 
analysis  was  unknown  to  the  moderns,  such  mathematicians  as 
had  attended  to  the  progress  of  the  mind  in  the  discovery  of 
truth,  concluded  a priori,  that  the  discoveries  of  the  Greek 
geometers  did  not,  at  first,  occur  to  them  in  the  order  in  which 
they  are  stated  in  their  writings.  The  prevailing  opinion  was, 
that  they  had  possessed  some  secret  method  of  investigation, 
which  they  carefully  concealed  from  the  world ; and  that  they 
published  the  result  of  their  labors  in  such  a form,  as  they 
thought  would  be  most  likely  to  excite  the  admiration  of  their 
readers.  The  revival  of  the  ancient  analysis,  by  some  late  mathe- 
maticians in  this  country,  has,  in  part,  justified  these  remarks,  by 
showing  to  how  great  a degree  the  inventive  powers  of  the 
Greek  geometers  were  aided  by  that  method  of  investigation ; 
and  by  exhibiting  some  striking  specimens  of  address  in  the 
practical  application  of  it. 

The  solution  of  problems,  indeed.  It  may  be  said,  is  but  one 
mode  in  which  mathematical  invention  may  be  displayed.  The 
discovery  of  new  truths  is  what  we  chiefly  admire  in  an  original 
genius  ; and  the  method  of  analysis  gives  us  no  satisfaction  with 
respect  to  the  process  by  which  they  ai’e  obtained. 

How  new  theorems  are  discovered.  — To  remove  this  difficulty 
completely,  by  explaining  all  the  various  ways  in  which  new 
theorems  may  be  brought  to  light,  would  lead  to  inquiries  foreign 
to  this  work.  In  order,  however,  to  render  the  process  of  the 


INVENTION. 


187 


mind,  on  such  occasions,  a little  less  mysterious  than  it  is  com- 
monly supposed  to  be ; it  may  be  projier  to  remark,  that  the 
most  copious  source  of  discoveries  is  the  investigation  of  prob- 
lems ; which  seldom  fails  (even  although  we  should  not  suc- 
ceed in  the  attainment  of  the  object  which  we  have  in  view)  to 
exhibit  to  us  some  relations  formerly  unobserved  among  the 
quantities  which  are  .under  consideration.  Of  so  great  impor- 
tance is  it  to  concentrate  the  attention  to  a particular  subject, 
and  to  check  that  wandering  and  dissipated  habit  of  thought, 
which,  in  the  case  of  most  persons,  renders  their  speculations 
barren  of  any  profit  either  to  themselves  or  to  others.  Many 
theorems,  too,  have  been  suggested  by  analogy;  many  have 
been  investigated  from  truths  formerly  known  by  altering,  or  by 
generalizing,  the  hypothesis  ; and  many  have  been  obtained  by  a 
species  of  induction.  An  illustration  of  these  various  processes 
of  the  mind  would  not  only  lead  to  new  and  curious  remarks, 
but  would  contribute  to  diminish  that  blind  admiration  of  original 
genius,  which  is  one  of  the  chief  obstacles  to  the  improvement 
of  science. 

Success  in  scientific  researches  depends  on  method.  — The 
history  of  natural  philosophy,  before  and  after  the  time  of  Lord 
Bacon,  affords  another  proof,  how  much  the  powers  of  invention 
and  discovery  may  be  assisted  by  the  study  of  method:  and  in  all 
the  sciences,  without  exception,  whoever  employs  his  genius  with 
a regular  and  habitual  success,  plainly  shows,  that  it  is  by  means 
of  general  rules  that  his  inquiries  are  conducted.  Of  these 
rules,  there  may  be  many  which  the  inventor  never  stated 
to  himself  in  words ; and  perhaps  he  may  even  be  unconscious 
of  the  assistance  which  he  derives  from  them ; but  their  influence 
on  his  genius  appears  unquestionably  from  the  uniformity  with 
which  it  proceeds ; and  in  proportion  as  they  can  be  ascertained 
by  his  own  speculations,  or  collected  by  the  logician  from  an 
examination  of  his  researches,  similar  powers  of  invention  will 
be  placed  within  the  reach  of  other  men,  who  apply  themselves 
to  the  same  study. 

The  following  remarks,  which  a truly  jihilosophical  artist  has 
applied  to  painting,  may  be  extended,  with  some  trifling  altera- 


188 


DREAMING. 


tions,  to  all  tlie  different  employments  of  our  intellectual 
powers : — 

“ What  we  now  call  genius  begins,  not  where  rules,  abstract- 
edly taken,  end  ; but  where  known,  vulgar,  and  trite  rules  have 
no  longer  any  place.  It  must  of  necessity  be,  that  a work  of 
genius,  as  well  as  every  other  effect,  as  it  must  have  its  cause, 
must  likewise  have  its  rules ; it  cannot  be  by  chance,  that  excel- 
lences are  pi’oduced  with  any  constancy,  or  any  certainty,  for 
this  is  not  the  nature  of  chance ; but  the  rules  by  which  men  of 
extraordinary  parts,  and  such  as  are  called  men  of  genius,  work, 
are  either  such  as  they  discover  by  their  own  peculiar  observa- 
tion, or  of  such  a nice  texture  as  not  easily  to  admit  handling 
or  expressing  in  words. 

“ Unsubstantial,  however,  as  these  rules  may  seem,  and  diffi- 
cult as  it  may  be  to  convey  them  in  writing,  they  are  still  seen 
and  felt  in  the  mind  of  the  artist ; and  he  works  from  them  with 
as  much  certainty,  as  if  they  were  embodied,  as  I may  say,  upon 
paper.  It  is  true,  these  refined  principles  cannot  be  always 
made  palpable,  like  the  more  gross  rules  of  art ; yet  it  does  not 
follow,  but  that  the  mind  may  be  put  in  such  a train,  that  it 
shall  perceive,  by  a kind  of  scientific  sense,  that  propriety  which 
words  can  but  very  feebly  suggest.” — {Discourses  by  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds.) 

V.  Application  of  the  principles  stated  in  the  foregoing  sections 
of  this  chapter,  to  explain  the  phenomena  of  dreaming.  — With 
respect  to  the  phenomena  of  dreaming,  three  different  questions 
may  be  proposed.  First,  What  is  the  state  of  the  mind  in 
sleep?  or,  in  other  words,  faculties  then  continue  to  operate, 
and  what  faculties  are  then  suspended  ? Secondly,  How  far 
do  our  dreams  appear  to  be  influenced  by  our  bodily  sensations  ; 
and  in  what  respects  do  they  vary,  according  to  the  different 
conditions  of  the  body  in  health,  and  in  sickness?  Thirdly, 
What  is  the  change  which  sleep  produces  on  those  parts  of  the 
body,  with  which  our  mental  operations  are  more  immediately 
connected  ; and  how  does  this  change  operate,  in  diversifying  so 
remarkably  the  phenomena  which  our  minds  then  exhibit,  from 
those  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  our  wakimr  hours?  Of  these 


DREAMING. 


189 


three  questions,  the  Jirst  belongs  to  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind ; and  it  is  to  this  question  that  the  following  inquiry  is 
almost  entirely  confined.  The  second-As  more  particularly  in- 
teresting to  the  medical  inquirer,  and  does  not  properly  fall 
under  the  plan  of  this  work.  The  third  seems  to  me  to  relate 
to  a subject,  which  is  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  the  human 
faculties. 

It  may  be  granted,  that,  if  we  could  ascertain  the  state  of  the 
mind  in  sleep,  so  as  to  be  able  to  resolve  the  various  ■phenomena 
of  dreaming  into  a smaller  number  of  general  principles  ; and 
still  more,  if  we  could  resolve  them  into  one  general  fact,  we 
should  be  advanced  a very  important  step  in  our  inquiries  upon 
this  subject ; even  although  we  should  find  it  impossible  to  show, 
in  what  manner  this  change  in  the  state  of  the  mind  results  from 
the  change  which  sleep  produces  in  the  state  of  the  body.  Such 
a step  would  at  least  gratify,  to  a certain  extent,  that  disposition 
of  our  nature  which  prompts  us  to  ascend  from  particular  facts 
to  general  laws,  and  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  our  philo- 
sophical I’esearches ; and,  in  the  present  instance,  I am  inclined  to 
think,  that  it  carries  us  as  far  as  our  imperfect  faculties  enable 
us  to  proceed. 

What  circumstances  accelerate  or  retard  the  approach  of  sleep.  — 
In  conducting  this  inquiry  with  respect  to  the  state  of  the  mind 
in  sleep,  it  seems  reasonable  to  expect,  that  some  light  may  be 
obtained  from  an  examination  of  the  circumstances  which  accele- 
rate or  retard  its  approach ; for  when  we  are  disposed  to  rest, 
it  is  natural  to  imagine,  that  the  state  of  the  mind  approaches 
to  its  state  in  sleep  more  neaidy,  than  when  we  feel  ourselves 
alive  and  active,  and  capable  of  applying  all  our  various  facul- 
ties to  their  proper  purposes. 

In  general,  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  approach  of  sleep  is 
accelerated  by  every  circumstance  which  diminishes  or  suspends 
the  exercise  of  the  mental  powers ; and  is  retarded  by  every 
thing  which  has  a contrary  tendency.  When  we  wish  for  sleep, 
we  naturally  endeavor  to  withhold,  as  much  as  possible,  all  the 
active  exertions  of  the  mind,  by  disengaging  our  attention  from 
every  interesting  subject  of  thought.  When  we  are  disposed  to 


. 190 


BREAMING. 


keep  awake,  ve  naturally  fix  our  attention  on  some  subject 
which  is  calculated  to  afford  employment  to  our  intellectual 
powers,  or  to  rouse  and  exercise  the  active  principles  of  our 
nature. 

It  is  well  known,  that  there  is  a particular  class  of  sounds 
which  compose  us  to  sleep.  The  hum  of  bees ; the  murmur  of 
a fountain ; the  reading  of  an  uninteresting  discourse,  have  this 
tendency  in  a remarkable  degree.  If  we  examine  this  class  of 
sounds,  we  shall  find  that  it  consists  wholly  of  such  as  are-fitted 
to  withdraw  the  attention  of  the  mind  from  its  own  thoughts, 
and  are,  at  the  same  time,  not  snfficiently  interesting  to  engage 
its  attention  to  themselves. 

It  is  also  matter  of  common  observation,  that  children  and 
persons  of  httle  reflection,  vdio  are  chiefly  occupied  about  sensi- 
ble objects,  and  whose  mental  activity  is,  in  a great  measure, 
suspended,  as  soon  as  their  perceptive  powers  ai’e  unemployed  ; 
find  it  extremely  difficult  to  continue  awake,  when  they  are 
deprived  of  their  usual  engagements.  The  same  thing  has 
been  remarked  of  savages,  whose  time,  like  that  of  the  lower 
animals,  is  almost  completely  divided  between  sleep  and  their 
bodily  exertions.* 

The  powers  dependent  on  volition  suspended  during  sleep.  — 
From  a consideration  of  these  facts,  it  seems  reasonable  to  con- 
clude that  in  sleep  those  operations  of  the  mind  are  suspended, 
which  depend  on  our  volition ; for  if  it  be  certain,  that  before 
we  fall  asleep,  we  must  witlfliold,  as  mucli  as  we  are  able,  the 
exercise  of  all  our  different  powers ; it  is  scarcely  to  be 
imagined,  that,  as  soon  as  sleep  commences,  these  powers  should 
again  begin  to  be  exerted.  The  more  probable  conclusion  is, 
that  when  we  are  desirous  to  procure  sleep,  we  bring  both  mind 
and  body,  as  nearly  as  we  can,  into  that  state  in  which  they  are 

* “ The  existence  of  the  negro  slaves  in  America,  appears  to  participate 
more  of  sensation  than  reflection.  To  this  must  be  ascribed,  their  disposi- 
tion to  sleep  when  abstracted  from  their  diversions  and  unemployed  in 
..heir  labor.  An  animal  whose  body  is  at  rest,  and  who  does  not  reflect, 
must  be  disposed  to  sleep,  of  course.”  — Notes  on  Virginia,  by  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son, p.  225. 


DREAMIXa. 


191 


to  continue  after  sleep  commences.  The  ditference,  therefore, 
between  the  state  of  the  mind  when  we  are  inviting  sleep,  and 
when  we  are  actually  asleep,  is  this,  — that  in  the  former  case, 
although  its  active  exertions  be  suspended,  we  can  renew  them, 
if  we  please.  In  the  other  case,  the  will  loses  its  influence  over 
all  our  powers,  both  of  mind  and  body ; in  consequence  of  some 
physical  alteration  in  the  system,  which  we  shall  never,  probably, 
be  able  to  explain. 

In  order  to  illustrate  this  conclusion  a little  further,  it  may  be 
proper  to  remark,  that  if  the  suspension  of  our  voluntary  opera- 
tions in  sleep  be  admitted  as  a fact,  there  are  only  two  svpposi- 
tions  which  can  be  formed  concerning  its  cause.  The  one  is, 
that  the  power  of  volition  is  suspended ; the  other,  that  the  will 
loses  its  influence  over  those  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  those 
members  of  the  body,  which,  during  our  waking  hours,  are  sub- 
jected to  its  authority.  If  it  can  be  shown,  then,  that  the  former 
supposition  is  not  agreeable  to  fact,  the  truth  of  the  latter  seems 
to  follow  as  a necessary  consequence. 

1.  Volition  itself  not  suspended  during  sleep.  — That  the  power 
of  vohtion  is  not  suspended  during  sleep,  appears  from  the  efforts 
which  we  are  conscious  of  making  while  in  that  situation.  We 
dream,  for  example,  that  we  are  in  danger ; and  we  attempt 
to  call  out  for  assistance.  The  attempt,  indeed,  is,  in  general, 
unsuccessful ; and  the  sounds  which  we  emit  are  feeble  and 
indistinct ; but  this  only  confirms,  or  rather  is  a necessary  con 
sequence  of  the  supposition,  that,  in  sleej),  the  connection,  be- 
tween the  will  and  our  voluntary  operations  is  distui’bed  or 
interrupted.  The  continuance  of  the  power  of  volition  is  de- 
monstrated by  the  effort,  however  ineffectual. 

In  like  manner,  in  the  course  of  an  alarming  dream,  we  are 
sometimes  conscious  of  making  an  exertion  to  save  ourselves, 
by  flight,  from  an  apprehended  danger  ; but  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts,  we  continue  in  bed.  In  such  cases,  we  commonly  dream 
that  we  are  attempting  to  escape,  and  are  prevented  by  some 
external  obstacle  ; but  the  fact  seems  to  be,  that  the  body  is,  at 
that  time,  not  subject  to  the  will.  During  the  disturbed  rest 
which  we  sometimes  have  when  the  body  is  indisposed,  the 


192 


DREAMING. 


mind  appears  to  retain  some  power  over  it ; but  as,  even  in 
these  cases,  the  motions  which  are  made  consist  rather  of  a 
general  agitation  of  the  whole  system,  than  of  the  regular 
exertion  of  a particular  member  of  it,  with  a view  to  produce  a 
certain  effect ; it  is  reasonable  to  cojiclude,  that  in  perfectly 
sound  sleep,  the  mind,  although  it  retains  the  power  of  volition, 
retains  no  influence  whatever  over  the  bodily  organs. 

In  that  particular  condition  of  the  system,  which  is  known  by 
the  name  of  incubus,  [or  nightmare^  we  are  conscious  of  a 
total  want  of  power  over  the  body ; and,  I believe,  the  common 
opinion  is,  that  it  is  this  want  of  power  which  distinguishes  the 
incubus  from  all  the  other  modifications  of  sleep.  But  the 
more  probable  supposition  seems  to  be,  that  every  sjiecies  of 
sleep  is  accompanied  with  a suspension  of  the  faculty  of  volun- 
tary motion,  and  that  the  incubus  has  nothing  peculiar  in  it  but 
this,  — that  the  uneasy  sensations  which  are  produced  by  the  ac- 
cidental postui’e  of  the  body,  and  which  we  find  it  impossible 
to  remove  by  our  own  efforts,  render  us  distinctly  conscious  of  | 
our  incapacity  to  move.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  the  instant  | 
of  our  awaking,  and  of  our  recovering  the  command  of  our  {i 
bodily  organs,  is  one  and  the  same. 

2.  The  same  conclusion  is  confirmed  by  a different  view  of 
the  subject.  It  is  probable,  as  was  already  observed,  that  when 
we  are  anxious  to  procure  sleep,  the  state  into  which  we  natu-  I 
rally  bring  the  mind,  approaches  to  its  state  after  sleep  eom-  ijj 
mences.  Now  it  is  manifest,  that  the  means  which  nature  il 
directs  us  to  employ  on  such  occasions,  is,  not  to  suspend  the  jjJ 

poicer  of  volition,  but  to  suspend  the  exertion  of  those  poiuers  : 

whose  exercise  depends  on  volition.  If  it  were  necessary  that  | 
volition  should  be  suspended  before  we  fall  asleep,  it  would  be  | 
impossible  for  us,  by  our  own  efforts  to  hasten  the  moment  of  !| 
rest.  Tlie  very  supposition  of  such  efforts  is  absurd ; for  it  I| 
implies  a continued  will  to  suspend  the  acts  of  the  will.  Ij 

Sleep  affects  the  mind  as  it  does  the  body.  — According  to  the  j|' 
foregoing  doctrine  with  respect  to  the  state  of  the  mind  in  sleep,  ji  j 
the  effect  which  is  produced  on  our  mental  operations,  is 
strikingly  analogous  to  that  which  is  produced  on  our  bodily  I 


DREAMING. 


193 


powers.  From  the  observations  which  have  been  already  made, 
it  is  manifest  that  in  sleep,  the  body  is,  in  a very  inconsiderable 
degree,  if  at  all,  subject  to  our  command.  The  vital  and  in- 
voluntary motions,  however,  suffer  no  interruption,  but  go  on  as 
when  we  are  awake,  in  consequence  of  the  operation  of  some 
cause  unknown  to  us.  In  like  manner,  it  would  appear,  that 
those  operations  of  the  mind  which  depend  on  our  volition  are 
suspended ; while  certain  other  operations  are,  at  least,  occasion- 
ally carried  on.  This  analogy  naturally  suggests  the  idea,  that 
all  our  mental  operations,  which  are  independent  of  our  will, 
may  continue  during  sleep ; and  that  the  phenomena  of  dream- 
ing may,  perhaps,  be  produced  by  these,  diversified  in  their 
apparent  effects,  in  consequence  of  the  suspension  of  our  volun- 
tary powers. 

If  the  appearances  which  the  mind  exhibits  during  sleep  are 
found  to  be  explicable  on  this  general  principle,  it  will  possess 
all  the  evidence  which  the  nature  of  the  subject  admits  of. 

How  much  power  the  will  has  over  the  thoughts.  — It  was 
formerly  shown,  that  the  train  of  thought  in  the  mind  does  not 
depend  immediately  on  our  will,  but  is  regulated  by  certain  gen- 
eral laws  of  association.  At  the  same  time,  it  appeared,  that 
among  the  various  subjects  which  thus  spontaneously  present 
themselves  to  our  notice,  we  have  the  power  of  singling  out 
any  one  that  we  choose  to  consider,  and  of  making  it  a partic- 
ular object  of  attention  ; and  that  by  doing  so,  we  not  only  can 
stop  the  train  that  would  otherwise  have  succeeded,  but  fre- 
quently can  divert  the  current  of  our  thoughts  into  a new 
channel.  It  also  appeared,  that  Ave  have  a power  (which  may 
be  much  improved  by  exercise)  of  recalling  past  occurrences 
to  the  memory,  by  a voluntary  effort  of  recollection. 

The  indirect  influence  which  the  mind  thus  possesses  over 
the  ti’ain  of  its  thoughts  is  so  great,  that  during  the  whole  time 
we  are  awake,  excepting  in  those  cases  in  which  we  fall  into 
what  is  called  a revery,  and  suffer  our  thoughts  to  follow  their 
natural  course,  the  order  of  their  succession  is  always  regulated 
more  or  less  by  the  will.  The  will,  indeed,  in  regulating  the 
train  of  thought,  can  operate  only  (as  I have  already  shown) 

17 


194 


DKEAMING. 


by  availing  itself  of  the  established  laws  of  association ; but 
still  it  has  the  power  of  rendering  this  train  very  different  from 
what  it  would  have  been,  if  these  laws  had  taken  place  without 
its  interference. 

How  dreams  would  differ  from  waking  thoughts  upon  this 
theory.  — From  these  principles,  combined  with  the  general 
fact  which  I have  endeavored  to  establisli,  with  respect  to  the 
state  of  the  mind  in  sleep,  two  obvious  consequences  follow: 
first.,  that  when  we  are  in  this  situation,  the  succession  of  our 
thoughts,  in  so  far  as  it  depends  on  the  laws  of  association, 
may  be  carried  on  by  the  operation  of  tlie  same  unknown 
causes  by  which  it  is  produced  while  we  are  awake ; and, 
secondly,  that  the  order  of  our  thoughts,  in  these  two  states  of 
the  mind,  must  be  very  different ; inasmuch  as,  in  the  one,  it 
depends  solely  on  the  laws  of  association,  and  in  the  other,  on 
these  laws  combined  with  our  own  voluntary  exertions. 

In  order  to  ascertain  how  far  these  conclusions  are  agreeable 
to  truth,  it  is  necessary  to  compare  them  with  the  known 
phenomena  of  dreaming.  For  which  purpose,  I shall  endeavor 
to  show,  first,  that  the  succession  of  our  thoughts  in  sleep,  is 
regulated  by  the  same  general  laws  of  association,  to  which  it 
is  subjected  while  we  are  awake ; and,  secondly,  that  the 
circumstances  which  discriminate  dreaming  from  our  waking 
thoughts,  are  such  as  must  necessarily  arise  from  the  suspension 
of  the  influence  of  the  will. 

I.  That  the  succession  of  our  thoughts  in  sleep,  is  regulated  by 
the  same  general  laws  of  association,  which  influence  the  mind 
while  we  are  awake,  appears  from  the  following  considerations. 

1.  Our  dreams  are  frequently  suggested  to  us  by  bodily  sensa- 
tions ; and  with  these,  it  is  well  known,  from  what  we  experience 
while  awake,  that  particular  ideas  are  frequently  very  strongly 
associated.  I have  been  told  by  a friend,  that,  having  occasion, 
in  consequence  of  an  indisposition,  to  apply  a bottle  of  hot 
water  to  his  feet  when  he  went  to  bed,  he  dreamed  that  he  was 
making  a journey  to  the  top  of  Mount  JEtna.,  and  that  he  found 
the  heat  of  the  ground  almost  insupportable.  Another  person, 
having  a blister  applied  to  his  head,  dreamed  that  he  was 


DREAMING. 


195 


scalped  by  a party  of  Indians.  I believe  every  one  who  is  in 
the  habit  of  dreaming,  will  recollect  instances,  in  his  own  case, 
of  a similar  nature. 

2.  Our  dreams  are  influenced  hy  the  prevailing  temper  of  the 
mind;  and  vary,  in  their  complexion,  according  as  our  habitual 
disposition,  at  the  time,  inclines  us  to  cheerfulness  or  to  melan- 
choly. Not  that  this  observation  holds  without  exception  ; but 
it  holds  so  generally,  as  must  convince  us,  that  the  state  of  our 
spirits  has  some  effect  on  our  dreams,  as  well  as  on  our  waking 
thoughts.  Indeed,  in  the  latter  case,  no  less  than  in  the  former, 
this  eflfect  may  be  counteracted,  or  modified  by  various  other 
circumstances. 

After  having  made  a narrow  escape  from  any  alarming 
danger,  we  are  apt  to  awake,  in  the  course  of  our  sleep,  with 
sudden  startings ; imagining  that  we  are  drowning,  or  on  the 
brink  of  a precipice.  A severe  misfortune,  which  has  affected 
the  mind  deeply,  influences  our  dreams  in  a similar  way ; and 
suggests  to  us  a variety  of  adventures,  analogous,  in  some 
measure,  to  that  event  from  which  our  distress  arises.  Such, 
according  to  Virgil,  were  the  dreams  of  the  forsaken  Dido. 

“ Agit  ipse  furentem 

In  somnis  ferns  Aeneas ; semperque  relinqui 
Sola  sibi ; semper  longam  incomitata  videtur 
Ire  viam,  et  Tyrios  deserta  quserere  terra.” 

3.  Our  dreams  are  influenced  hy  our  prevailing  habits  of  as- 
sociation while  awake. 

In  a former  part  of  this  work,  I considered  the  extent  of 
that  power  which  the  mind  may  acquire  over  the  train  of  its 
thoughts ; and  I observed,  that  those  intellectual  diversities 
among  men,  which  we  commonly  refer  to  peculiarities  of  genius, 
are,  at  least  in  a great  measure,  resolvable  into  differences  in 
their  habits  of  association.  One  man  possesses  a rich  and 
beautiful  fancy,  which  is  at  all  times  obedient  to  his  will.  An- 
other possesses  a quickness  of  recollection,  which  enables  him, 
at  a moment’s  warning;,  to  bring  together  all  the  results  of  his 
past  experience,  and  of  his  past  reflections,  which  can  be  of 


196 


DREAMING. 


use  for  illustrating  any  proposed  subject.  A third  can,  without 
effort,  collect  his  attention  to  the  most  abstract  questions  in 
pliilosophy can  perceive,  at  a glance,  the  shortest  and  the 
most  effectual  process  for  arriving  at  the  truth ; and  can  banish 
from  his  mind  every  extraneous  idea,  which  fancy  or  casual 
association  may  suggest,  to  distract  his  thoughts  or  to  mislead 
his  judgment.  A fourth  unites  all  these  powers  in  a capacity 
of  perceiving  truth  with  an  almost  intuitive  rajiidity ; and  in  an 
eloquence  which  enables  him  to  command,  at  pleasure,  whatever 
his  memory  and  his  fancy  can  supply,  to  illustrate  and  to  adorn 
it.  The  occasional  exercise  which  such  men  make  of  their 
powers,  may  undoubtedly  be  said,  in  one  sense,  to  be  unpre- 
meditated or  unstudied ; but  they  all  indicate  previous  habits  of 
meditation  or  study,  as  unquestionably  as  the  dexterity  of  the 
expert  accountant,  or  the  rapid  execution  of  the  professional 
musician. 

F rom  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident,  that  a train  of  thought 
which,  in  one  man,  would  require  a painful  effort  of  study,  may, 
in  another,  be  almost  spontaneous  ; nor  is  it  to  be  doubted  that 
the  reveries  of  studious  men,  even  when  they  allow,  as  much  as 
they  can,  their  thoughts  to  follow  their  own  course,  are  more  or 
less  connected  together  by  those  principles  of  association,  which 
their  favorite  pursuits  tend  more  particularly  to  strengthen. 

The  influence  of  the  same  habits  may  be  traced  distinctly  in 
sleep.  There  are  probably  few  mathematicians,  who  have  not 
dreamed  of  an  interesting  problem,  and  who  have  not  even 
fancied  that  they  were  prosecuting  the  investigation  of  it  with 
much  success.  They  whose  ambition  leads  them  to  the  study 
of  eloquence,  are  frequently  conscious,  during  sleep,  of  a re- 
newal of  their  daily  occupations ; and  sometimes  feel  themselves 
possessed  of  a fluency  of  speech,  which  they  never  experienced 
before.  The  poet,  in  his  dreams,  is  transported  into  Elysium, 
and  leaves  the  vulgar  and  unsatisfactory  enjoyments  of  hu- 
manity, to  dwell  in  those  regions  of  enchantment  and  rapture, 
which  have  been  created  by  the  divine  imaginations  of  Virgil 
and  of  Tasso. 


DREAMING. 


197 


“ And  hither  Morpheus  sent  his  kindest  dreams, 

Raising  a world  of  gayer  tinct  and  grace  ; 

O’er  which  were  shadowy  cast  Elysian  gleams, 

That  play’d,  in  waving  lights,  from  place  to  place. 

And  shod  a roseate  smile  on  Nature’s  face. 

Not  Titian’s  pencil  e’er  could  so  array. 

So  fleece  with  clouds  the  pure  ethereal  space  ; 

Nor  could  it  e’er  such  melting  forms  display. 

As  loose  on  flowery  beds  all  languishingly  lay. 

No,  fair  illusions  1 artful  phantoms,  no  1 
My  muse  will  not  attempt  your  faii-y  land  : 

She  has  no  colors,  that  like  yours  can  glow ; 

To  catch  your  vivid  scenes,  too  gross  her  hand.”  — 

Castle  of  Indolence. 

As  a further  proof  that  the  succession  of  our  thoughts  in 
dreaming,  is  influenced  by  our  prevailing  habits  of  association, 
it  may  he  remarked,  that  the  scenes  and  occurrences  which  most 
frequently  present  themselves  to  the  mind  while  we  are  asleep, 
are  the  scenes  and  occurrences  of  childhood  and  early  youth.  The 
facility  of  association  is  then  much  greater  than  in  more  advanced 
years ; and  although,  during  the  day,  the  memory  of  the  events 
thus  associated  may  be  banished  by  the  objects  and  pursuits 
which  press  upon  our  senses,  it  retains  a more  permanent  hold 
of  the  mind  than  any  of  our  subsequent  acquisitions ; and  like 
the  knowledge  which  we  possess  of  our  mother  tongue,  is,  as  it 
were,  interwoven  and  incorporated  with  all  its  most  essential 
habits.  Accordingly,  in  old  men,  whose  thoughts  are,  in  a 
great  measure,  disengaged  from  the  world,  the  transactions  of 
their  middle  age,  which  once  seemed  so  important,  are  often 
obliterated ; while  the  mind  dwells,  as  in  a dream,  on  the  spots 
and  the  companions  of  their  infancy. 

I shall  only  observe  further,  on  this  head,  that  in  our  dreams, 
as  well  as  when  awake,  we  occasionally  make  use  of  words  as 
an  instrument  of  thought.  Such  dreams,  however,  do  not  affect 
the  mind  with  such  emotions  of  pleasure  and  of  pain,  as  those 
in  which  the  imagination  is  occupied  with  particular  objects  of 
sense.  The  effect  of  philosophical  studies,  in  habituating  the 
mind  to  the  almost  constant  employment  of  this  instrument,  and, 
of  consequence,  its  effect  in  weakening  the  imagination,  was  foi  • 

17  * 


198 


DREAMING. 


merly  remarked.  If  I am  not  mistaken,  the  influence  of  these 
circumstances  may  also  be  traced  in  the  histoiy  of  our  dreams ; 
which,  in  youth,  commonly  involve,  in  a much  greater  degree, 
the  exercise  of  imagination ; and  aflfect  the  mind  with  much 
more  powerful  emotions,  than  when  we  begin  to  employ  our 
maturer  faculties  in  more  general  and  abstract  speculations. 

II.  From  these  dilFerent  observations,  we  are  authorized  to 
conclude,  that  the  same  laws  of  association  which  regulate  the 
train  of  our  thoughts  while  we  are  awake,  continue  to  operate 
during  sleep.  I now  proceed  to  consider,  how  far  the  circum- 
stances which  discriminate  dreaming  from  our  waking  thoughts 
correspond  with  those  which  might  be  expected  to  result  from 
the  suspension  of  the  influence  of  the  will. 

1.  If  the  influence  of  the  will  be  suspended  during  sleep,  ah 
our  voluntary  operations,  such  as  recollection,  reasoning,  etc., 
must  also  be  suspended. 

That  this  really  is  the  case,  the  extravagance  and  inconsis- 
tency of  our  dreams  are  sutBcient  proofs.  We  frequently  con- 
found together  times  and  places  the  most  remote  from  each 
other ; and  in  the  course  of  the  same  dream,  conceive  the  same 
person  as  existing  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Sometimes 
we  imagine  ourselves  conversing  with  a dead  friend,  without 
remembering  the  circumstance  of  his  death,  although,  perhaps, 
it  happened  but  a few  days  before,  and  affected  us  deeply.  All 
this  proves  clearly,  that  the  subjects  which  then  occupy  our 
thoughts  are  such  as  present  themselves  to  the  mind  spontan- 
eously ; and  that  we  have  no  power  of  employing  our  reason  in 
comparing  together  the  different  parts  of  our  dreams  ; or  even 
of  exerting  an  act  of  recollection  in  order  to  ascertain  how  far 
they  are  consistent  and  possible. 

The  process  of  reasoning  in  which  we  sometimes  fancy  our- 
selves to  be  engaged  during  sleep,  furnish  no  exception  to  the 
foregoing  observation ; for,  although  every  such  process,  the 
first  time  we  form  it,  implies  volition  ; and,  in  particular,  implies 
a recollection  of  the  premises,  till  we  arrive  at  the  conclusion ; 
yet,  when  a number  of  truths  have  been  often  presented-  to  us 
as  necessarily  connected  with  each  other,  this  series  may  after 


DREAMING. 


199 


wards  pass  tlirougli  tlie  mind,  according  to  the  laws  of  associa- 
tion, without  any  more  activity  on  our  part,  than  in  those  trains 
of  thought  which  are  the  most  loose  and  incoherent.  Nor  is 
this  mere  theory.  I may  venture  to  appeal  to  the  consciousness 
of  every  man  accustomed  to  dream,  whether  his  reasonings 
during  sleep  do  not  seem  to  be  carried  on  without  any  exertion 
of  his  will ; and  with  a degree  of  facility  of  which  he  was  never 
conscious  while  awake.  Mr.  Addison,  in  one  of  his  Spectators, 
has  made  this  observation ; and  his  testimony,  in  the  present 
instance,  is  of  tlie  greater  weight,  that  he  had  no  particular 
tlieory  on  the  subject  to  support.  “ There  is  not,”  says  he,  “ a 
more  painful  action  of  the  mind  than  invention ; yet  in  dreams 
it  works  with  that  ease  and  activity,  that  we  are  not  sensible 
when  the  faculty  is  employed.  For  instance,  I believe  every 
one,  some  time  or  other,  dreams  that  he  is  reading  papers,  books, 
or  letters  : in  which  case  the  invention  prompts  so  readily  that 
the  mind  is  imposed  on,  and  mistakes  its  owir  suggestions  for 
the  composition  of  another.” 

2.  If  the  influence  of  the  will  during  sleep  be  suspended,  the 
mind  ivill  remain  as  passive,  while  its  thoughts  change  from  one 
subject  to  another,  as  it  does  during  our  waking  hours,  while  dif- 
ferent perceptible  objects  are  presented  to  our  senses. 

Of  this  passive  state  of  the  mind  in  our  dreams  it  is  unneces- 
sary to  multiply  proofs ; as  it  has  always  been  considered  as 
One  of  the  most  extraordinary  circumstances  with  which  they 
are  accompanied.  If  our  dreams,  as  well  as  our  waking  thoughts 
were  subject  to  the  will,  is  it  not  natural  to  conclude,  that  in  the 
one  case,  as  well  as  in  the  other,  we  would  endeavor  to  banish, 
as  much  as  we  could,  every  idea  which  had  a tendency  to  dis- 
turb us  ; and  detain  those  only  which  we  found  to  be  agreeable  ? 
So  far,  however,  is  this  power  over  our  thoughts  from  being 
exercised,  that  we  are  frequently  oppressed,  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts  to  the  contrary,  with  dreams  which  affect  us  with  the 
most  painful  emotions.  And,  indeed,  it  is  matter  of  vulgar 
remark,  that  oiir  dreams  are,  in  every  case,  involuntary  on  our 
pai't,  and  that  they  appear  to  be. obtruded  on  us  by  some  external 
cause.  This  fact  appeared  so  unaccountable  to  the  late  Mr. 


200 


DREAMING. 

r« 

Baxter,  that  it  gave  rise  to  his  very  whimsical  theory,  in  whieh 
he  ascribes  dreams  to  the  immediate  influence  of  sepai-ate  spirits 
on  the  mind. 

3.  If  the  influence  of  the  will  be  suspended  during  sleep,  the 
conceptions  which  we  then  form  of  sensible  objects  will  be 
attended  with  a belief  of  their  real  existence,  as  much  as  the 
perception  of  the  same  objects  is  while  we  are  awake. 

In  treating  of  the  power  of  conception,  I formerly  observed, 
that  our  belief  of  the  separate  and  independent  existence  of  the 
objects  of  our  perceptions,  is  the  result  of  experience ; which 
teaches  us  that  these  perceptions  do  not  depend  on  our  will.  If 
I open  my  eyes,  I cannot  prevent  myself  from  seeing  the  pros- 
pect before  me.  The  case  is  difierent  with  respect  to  our  con- 
ceptions. While  they  occupy  the  mind,  to  the  exclusion  of 
every  thing  else,  I endeavored  to  show,  that  they  are  always 
accompanied  with  belief ; but  as  we  can  banish  them  from  the 
mind,  during  our  waking  hours,  at  pleasure ; and  as  the  moment- 
ary belief  which  they  produce,  is  continually  checked  by  the 
surrounding  objects  of  our  perceptions,  we  learn  to  consider 
them  as  fictions  of  our  own  creation ; and,  excepting  in  some 
accidental  cases,  pay  no  regard  to  them  in  the  conduct  of  life. 
If  the  doctrine,  however,  formerly  stated  with  respect  to  concep- 
tion be  just,  and  if,  at  the  sarte  time,  it  be  allowed,  that  sleep 
suspends  the  influence  of  the  will  over  the  train  of  our  thoughts, 
we  should  naturally  be  led  to  expect,  that  the  same  belief  which 
accompanies  conception  while  we  are  awake,  should  accompany 
the  perceptions  which  occur  to  us  in  our  dreams.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  for  me  to  remark,  how  strikingly  this  conclusion  coin- 
cides with  acknowledged  facts. 

May  it  not  be  considered  as  some  confirmation  of  the  foregoing 
doctrine,  that  when  opium  fails  in  producing  complete  sleep,  it 
commonly  produces  one  of  the  effects  of  sleep,  by  suspending 
the  activity  of  the  mind,  and  throwing  it  into  a revery ; and  that 
while  we  are  in  this  state,  our  conceptions  frequently  affect  us 
nearly  in  the  same  manner,  as  if  the  objects  conceived  were 
present  to  our  senses  ? — (See  the  Baron  de  Tott’s  Account  of 
the  Opium-takers  at  Constantinople.) 


DREAMING. 


201 


* 

Anothei'  circumstance  with  respect  to  our  conceptions  during 
sleep,  deserves  our  notice.  As  the  subjects  which  we  then  think 
upon  occupy  the  mind  exclusively ; and  as  the  attention  is  not 
diverted  by  the  objects  of  our  external  senses,  our  conceptions 
must  he  proportionably  lively  and  steady.  Every  person  knows 
how  faint  the  conception  is  which  we  form  of  any  thing,  with 
our  eyes  open,  in  comparison  of  what  w’e  can  form  with  our 
eyes  shut ; and  that,  in  proportion  as  we  can  suspend  the  exer- 
cise of  all  our  other  senses,  the  liveliness  of  our  conception 
increases.  To  this  cause  is  to  be  ascribed,  in  part,  the  effect 
which  the  dread  of  spirits  in  the  dark  has  on  some  persons,  who 
ai’e  fully  convinced  in  speculation  that  their  apprehensions  are 
groundless ; and  to  this,  also,  is  owing  the  effect  of  any  accidental 
perception  in  giving  them  a momentary  relief  from  their  terrors. 
He«ice  the  remedy  which  nature  points  out  to  us,  when  we  find 
ourselves  overpowered  by  imagination.  If  every  thing  around 
us  be  silent,  we  endeavor  to  create  a noise  by  speaking  aloud, 
or  beating  with  our  feet ; that  is,  we  strive  to  divert  the  atten- 
tion from  the  subjects  of  our  imagination,  by  presenting  an 
object  to  our  powers  of  perception.  The  conclusion  which  I 
draw  from  these  observations  is,  that  as  there  is  no  state  of  the 
body  in  which  our  perceptive  powers  are  so  totally  unemployed 
as  in  sleep,  it  is  natural  to  think  that  the  objects  which  we  con- 
ceive or  imagine,  must  then  make  an  impression  on  the  mind 
beyond  comparison  greater  than  any  thing  of  which  we  can  have 
experience  while  awake. 

F rom  these  principles  may  be  derived  a simple,  and,  I think, 
a satisfactory,  exjilanation  of  what  some  writers  have  repre- 
sented as  the  most  mysterious  of  all  the  circumstances  connected 
with  dreaming  ; the  inaccurate  estimates  we  are  apt  to  form  of 
time,  while  we  are  thus  employed ; — an  inaccuracy  which  some- 
times extends  so  far,  as  to  give  to  a single  instant  the  appearance 
of  hours,  or  perhaps  of  days.  A sudden  noise,  for  example, 
suggests  a dream  connected  with  that  perception;  and,  the 
moment  afterwards,  this  noise  has  the  effect  of  awaking  us  ; 
and  yet,  during  that  momentary  interval,  a long  series  of  cir- 
cumstances has  passed  before  the  imagination.  The  story  quoted 


202 


DREAMING. 


by  Mr.  Addison,  (Spectator,  No.  94,)  from  the  Turkish  Tales, 
of  the  miracle  wrought  by  a Mahometan  doctor  to  convince  an 
infidel  sultan,  is,  in  such  cases,  nearly  verified. 

The  facts  I allude  to  at  present  ax’e  generally  explained  by 
supp)osing,  that,  in  our  dreams,  the  rapidity  of  thought  is  greater 
than  while  we  are  awake ; but  there  is  no  necessity  for  having 
recourse  to  such  a supposition.  The  rapidity  of  thought  is,  at 
all  times,  such,  that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  a crowd  of  ideas 
may  pass  before  us,  to  which  it  would  require  a long  discourse 
to  give  utterance ; and  transactions  may  be  conceived,  which  it 
would  require  days  to  realize.  But,  in  sleep,  the  conceptions 
of  the  mind  are  mistaken  for  realities  ; and  therefore  our  esti- 
mates of  time  will  be  formed,  not  according  to  our  experience 
of  the  rapidity  of  thought,  but  according  to  our  experience  of 
the  time  requisite  for  realizing  what  we  conceive.  Something 
perfectly  analogous  to  this  may  be  remarked  in  the  perceptions 
we  obtain  by  the  sense  of  sight.  When  I look  into  a show-box, 
where  the  deception  is  imperfect,  I see  only  a set  of  paltry 
daubings  of  a few  inches  diameter ; but  if  the  representation 
be  executed  with  so  much  skill,  as  to  convey  to  me  the  idea  of 
a distant  prospect,  every  object  before  me  swells  in  its  dimen- 
sions, in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  space  which  I conceive  it 
to  occupy ; and  what  seemed  before  to  be  shut  up  within  the 
limits  of  a small  wooden  frame,  is  magnified,  in  my  apprehen- 
sion, to  an  immense  landscape  of  woods,  rivers,  and  mountains. 

The  phenomena  of  partial  sleep.  — The  phenomena  which  we 
have  hitherto  explained,  take  place  when  sleep  seems  to  be 
complete ; that  is,  when  the  mind  loses  its  influence  over  all 
those  powers  whose  exercise  depends  on  its  will.  There  are, 
however,  many  cases  in  which  sleep  seems  to  be  partial ; that 
is,  when  the  mind  loses  its  influence  over  some  powers,  and 
retains  it  over  others.  In  the  case  of  the  somnambuli,  it  retains 
its  power  over  the  limbs,  but  it  possesses  no  influence  over  its 
own  thoughts,  and  scarcely  any  over  the  body  ; excepting  those 
particular  members  of  it  which  are  employed  in  walking.  In 
madness,  the  power  of  the  will  over  the  body  remains  undimin- 
ished, while  its  influence  in  regulating  the  train  of  thought  is 


DREAMING. 


203 


in  a great  measure  suspended ; either  in  consequence  of  a par- 
ticular idea,  which  engrosses  the  attention,  to  the  exclusion  of 
every  thing  else,  and  which  we  find  it  impossible  to  banish  by 
our  efforts  or  in  consequence  of  our  thoughts  succeeding  each 
other  with  such  rapidity,  that  we  are  unable  to  stop  the  train. 
In  both  of  these  kinds  of  madness,  it  i^  worthy  of  remark,  that 
the  conceptions  or  imaginations  of  the  mind  becoming  inde- 
pendent of  our  will,  they  are  apt  to  be  mistaken  for  actual  per- 
ceptions, and  to  affect  us  in  the  same  manner.* 


* [About  ten  years  ago,  the  editor  of  this  volume  attempted  to  extend 
to  the  case  of  insanity  the  hypothesis  which  Stewart  has  here  so  pleasingly 
expounded  in  relation  to  dreaming.  The  follomiig  is  the  substance  of  the 
remarks,  which,  in  the  execution  of  this  purpose,  were  then  published  in  a 
periodical  work. 

It  seems  to  us,  that  the  most  characteristic  trait  of  insanity  is  a loss  of 
the  indirect  controlling  power  which  the  will  usually  exercises  over  the  pro- 
pensities and  the  processes  of  the  understanding.  We  call  this  power  in- 
direct, because  the  will  cannot  immediately  govern  the  belief,  or  the  suc- 
cession of  ideas,  so  as  to  give  distinctness  to  an  imperfect  recollection,  or 
to  put  aside  an  unpleasant  thought.  But  it  can  indirectly  labor  to  these 
ends,  and  human  reason  dilFers  from  brute  instinct  in  no  respect  so  much 
as  in  this  sovereignty,  partial  though  it  be,  which  the  will  and  the  conscience 
exercise  over  the  swift  currents  of  the  thoughts,  and  the  impulse  of  the 
desires.  This  is  chiefly  done  through  the  faculty  of  attention,  which  is 
directly  dependent  on  the  will.  We  can  stay  the  succession  of  ideas  at 
any  instant,  in  order  to  dwell  upon  a selected  thought,  till  we  have  con- 
sidered it  in  all  its  parts  and  relations.  Comparison  itself  has  been  rightly 
defined  as  an  act  of  alternate  attention  to  two  objects  ; and  it  is  therefore 
impaired  or  lost  only  when  we  cease  to  have  command  of  the  attention, 
because  the  will  in  this  respect  has  become  powerless.  We  distinguish 
fancies  from  realities  only  by  an  effort  of  attention  to  our  sensations, 
which  manifest  the  difference  between  the  imaginary  and  the  true.  If  cir- 
cumstances prevent  us  from  making  this  effort,  we  live  in  an  unreal  world, 
heedless  and  unconscious  of  external  things.  The  same  relaxation  of  the 
power  of  the  will,  by  which  mental  phenomena  are  converted  into  real 
existences,  removes  all  control  and  guidance  from  the  thoughts,  which 
then  become  confused  and  incoherent,  a mere  stream  of  inconsistent  fan- 
cies. It  is  so  in  dreams;  every  sleeper  is  a madman,  and  would  appear 
as  such,  if  the  will  did  not  lose  its  power  ocer  the  body  also,  so  that  action 
no  longer  manifests  the  delusions  of  the  intellect.  In  the  case  of  som- 
nambulism, the  muscles  remain  subject  to  the  volitions  of  the  sleeper, 


204 


DREAMING. 


By  means  of  this  supposition  of  a partial  sleep,  any  appar- 
ent exceptions  which  the  history  of  dreams  may  afford  to  the 


while  the  mind  is  under  no  control.  The  somnambulist  is,  therefore,  really 
insane,  and,  as  such,  the  law  does  not  hold  him  responsible  for  his  deeds. 
To  remove  the  check  which  the  will  has  over  the  thoughts  is  like  taking 
away  the  balance-wheel  from  a watch,  which  then  runs  down  with  a hur- 
ried and  irregular  motion,  no  longer  taking  note  of  time.  Every  thinker 
perceives  this  effect,  if  he  abandons  himself  to  a fit  of  reverie,  when  the 
most  heterogeneous  ideas  chase  each  other  in  quick  succession  through  the 
mind,  without  coherency  or  method,  and  leaving  hardly  a trace  on  the 
memory.  Startle  him  from  this  state  of  dreamy  abstraction,  and  he  looks 
round  bewildered,  and  requires  a moment  of  effort,  before  he  becomes 
conscious  of  his  situation,  and  of  the  presence  of  surrounding  things.  Ex- 
cept the  depression  of  spirits,  he  feels,  for  an  instant,  as  Lear  did,  when 
wakening  to  a gleam  of  sanity,  as  the  clouds  which  had  obscured  his  in- 
tellect wore  for  a moment  parted.  How  admirably  are  the  bewilderment 
of  mind,  and  the  effort  to  recall  and  fix  the  attention  upon  the  bystandere, 
here  depicted ! It  is  the  struggle  of  the  will  to  regain  its  supremacy. 

“ Pray,  do  not  mock  me  : 

I am  a very  foolish,  fond  old  man. 

Fourscore  and  upward ; and,  to  deal  plainly, 

1 fear  I am  not  in  my  perfect  mind. 

Methinks  I should  know  you,  and  know  this  man ; 

Yet  I am  doubtful : for  I am  mainly  ignorant 
What  place  this  is ; and  all  the  skill  I have 
Remembers  not  these  garments  ; nor  I know  not 
Where  I did  lodge  last  night.  Do  not  laugh  at  me  ; 

Eor,  as  I am  a man,  I think  this  lady 
To  be  my  child  Cordelia.” 

In  most  cases  of  recovery,  the  patient  retains  no  memory  of  what  has  oc- 
curred, or  what  he  has  done  during  his  madness  ; or,  if  any  recollection  re- 
mains, it  is  dim  and  perturbed,  like  that  of  a dream.  Memory  being  depen- 
dent on  attention,  and  that  again  on  the  will,  this  is  precisely  what  w'e 
should  expect  when  the  power  of  volition  is  suspended.  In  cases  of  partial 
mania,  the  will  loses  its  control  over  a particular  thought,  or  set  of  ideas, 
which  then  occupy  and  harass  the  mind,  being  invested  with  a factitious 
importance,  and  leading  to  the  most  insane  acts.  A sane  person,  if  an 
unpleasant  thought  or  recollection  comes  upon  him,  can  resolutely  put  it 
aside,  and  fix  his  attention  upon  other  olyects.  But  if  he  be  nervous  and 
imaginative,  irresolute  of  will,  and  defective  in  the  power  of  attention,  the 
unwelcome  visitant  — especially  if  it  be  of  a gloomy  or  exciting  character, 


DREAMING. 


205 


general  principles  already  stated,  admit  of  an  easy  expla- 
nation. 


like  the  recollection  of  a calamity,  a disappointment,  or  an  insult — • 
usurps  almost  exclusive  possession  of  the  mind,  and  he  sinks  into  habitual 
despondency.  Every  moment  then  increases  his  danger  ; and  unless  some 
counteracting  cause,  like  the  necessity  for  exertion,  be  applied,  the  train  of 
thought  at  last  entirely  shakes  off  the  sovereignty  of  the  will,  and  the  man 
becomes  a monomaniac. 

The  particular  character  of  the  delusion  will  he  determined  by  the 
patient’s  former  prevailing  turn  of  mind,  and  by  the  chief  emotions  to 
which  he  was  subject.  man’s  character  is  not  altered  by  an  attack  of 
insanity ; it  is  only  developed  and  exposed,  the  check  which  was  usually 
imposed  on  its  free  manifestations  being  now  taken  away.  A person  of 
sound  mind  soon  learns  to  control  his  desires  and  propensities,  from  a re- 
gard to  the  opinions  or  the  rights  of  others.  His  irascibility  is  repressed, 
his  estimation  of  liimself  is  carefully  concealed,  his  lower  appetites  are 
governed,  and  he  maintains  that  reserved  and  staid  demeanor,  through 
which  only  a penetrating  eye,  and  observation  sharpened  by  long  experi- 
ence, can  detect  the  innate  peculiarities  of  his  disposition.  This  lesson  of 
self-control  is  learned  at  so  early  a period,  and  is  practised  upon  so  habitu- 
ally, that  oiie  is  hardly  conscious  of  effort  in  submitting  to  it,  unless  the 
primitive  desires  are  of  extraordinary  force.  Let  the  power  of  the  will  be 
destroyed  by  an  attack  of  mental  disease,  and  this  veil  is  removed ; the 
passions  run  riot,  the  leading  emotion  betrays  itself  in  the  grossest  manner, 
and  the  sufferer  appears  like  another  being,  even  to  his  most  intimate 
friends. 

The  love  of  power,  and  an  inordinate  estimate  of  self,  are  among  the 
most  common  infirmities  of  human  nature ; and  nowhere  are  they  so 
strikingly  exhibited,  though  in  a ludicrous  light,  as  among  the  inmates  of 
a lunatic  asylum.  Here  comes  a king  of  shreds  and  patches,  with  a paper 
crown  on  his  head,  and  bits  of  tinsel  showily  disposed  about  his  person, 
who  announces  himself  as  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  emperor  of  the  world, 
and  greets  his  visitor  with  the  utmost  conilescension,  as  he  would  a subject 
who  had  come  to  do  him  homage.  But  he  suddenly  breaks  off  in  the 
midst  of  a pompous  speech,  to  inform  you,  that  he  has  just  had  a contest 
with  the  devil  in  that  apartment,  and  had  broken  two  of  his  ribs,  — this 
devil  being  an  unfortunate  keeper,  to  whose  face  he  had  taken  a dislike, 
and  whose  bones  he  had  actually  broken.  The  walls  of  his  room  arc 
scribbled  all  over,  chiefly  wdth  the  lofty  titles  of  his  greatness  ; as,  “ Su- 
preme from  the  Almighty,”  “ Mighty  Prince,”  “ Mighty  General-in-Chief,” 
“ Great  Mighty  Grand  Admiral,”  and  the  like.*  Another  of  the  company 


Conolly  ore  Insanity,  p.  289. 

18 


206 


DREAMINOt. 


Upon  reviewing  the  foregoing  observations,  it  does  not  occur 
to  me  that  I have  in  any  instance  transgressed  those  rules  of 

is  a poor,  mad  author,  who,  in  one  hour,  has  written  an  epic,  embracing  the 
universal  history  of  Greece  and  Rome  ; has  restored  the  Iliad  to  its  state 
as  it  came  from  the  genius  of  Kanki,  wlio  lived  many  millions  of  ages  be- 
fore the  deluge  of  Ogyges  ; and  accounts  for  his  wonderful  endowments, 
by  sa}'ing  that  he  is  a son  of  Jupiter  and  Juno.  Scott  has  given  us  an 
admirable  portrait  of  a deranged  female,  whose  brainsick  fancies  are  only 
tlie  foibles  of  the  weaker  part  of  her  sex,  grossly  exaggerated,  and  dis- 
played without  the  least  reserve.  Madge  Wildfire  is  insane  from  an  ex- 
cessive love  of  admiration,  and  an  insatiable  desire  to  dazzle  and  captivate; 
and  in  all  her  ravings,  her  simpering  manner,  her  fantastic  costume,  and  bits 
of  finery,  we  see  only  the  ruling  passion  divested  of  any  covering  or  control. 

The  strange  jumble  of  fancies,  which  a distracted  person  exhibits,  seems 
to  be  only  the  perfectly  loose  and  casual  succession  of  ideas  in  a mind 
which  has  emancipated  itself  from  the  governing  power  of  the  will.  It  is 
precisely  the  incoherency  of  a dream,  when  the  thoughts  ramble  on  with- 
out any  restraint  from  volition,  or  any  voluntary  pause  for  the  exercise  of 
judgment.  The  utterly  passive  intellect  merely  reflects  like  a mirror  the 
images  that  float  before  it,  without  receiving  any  impression  from  them,  or 
preserving  any  .trace  of  their  passage.  Outward  objects  have  no  longer 
their  usual  power  to  check  the  current  of  loose  thouglits,  and  recall  the 
mind  to  a consciousness  of  its  situation  ; the  sleeper  does  not  see  them, 
and  the  insane  person,  from  the  defect  in  his  will,  can  pay  no  attention  to 
them.  The  dream  of  the  madman  lasts  longer  ; but  in  every  other  respect, 
it  is  like  the  night-visions  of  the  perfectly  healthy  intellect.  He  has  the 
command  of  his  limbs,  also ; bnt  he  walks  in  his  sleep,  and  has  as  little 
perception  of  external  things  as  the  common  somnambulist. 

The  application  of  this  theory  to  the  cases  of  moral  idiocy  and  impulsive 
insanity  may  be  easily  made.  Our  position  is,  that  mental  disease  is  noth 
iug  more  than  the  suspension  of  the  ordinary  power  of  the  will  over  the 
other  powers  of  the  mind.  The  thoughts  and  actions  then  become  entirely 
irrational,  not  because  reason  and  judgment,  properly  speaking,  cease  to 
exist,  but  because  they  are  both  acts  consequent  upon  attention,  and,  of 
course,  cannot  manifest  themselves  when  the  attention  is  no  longer  under 
control.  These  noble  faculties,  then,  neither  decay  nor  are  subject  to  dis- 
ease ; they  are  simply  suspended  from  the  exercise  of  their  functions,  by 
the  impairment  of  another  power  which  is  a prerequisite  to  their  use;  and 
when  the  madman’s  sleep  is  ended,  they  revive  and  perform  their  accus- 
tomed office.  In  the  same  way,  the  loss  of  power  in  the  will  suspends  the 
exercise  of  the  moral  faculty.  In  moral  mania,  the  conscience  “ is  not 
dead,  but  slcepeth.”  The  desires  and  propensities  then  exist  with  no 
more  than  their  usual  force ; bnt  they  are  entirely  free  from  restraint  by 


DREAMING. 


207 


philosophizing  which,  since  the  time  of  JNewton,  are  commonly- 
appealed  to,  as  the  tests  of  sound  investigation.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  I have  not  supposed  any  causes  which  are  not 
known  to  exist ; and,  secondly,  I have  shown,  tliat  the  phenom- 
ena under  our  consideration  are  necessary  consequences  of  the 
causes  to  which  I have  referred  them.  I have  not  supposed 
that  the  mind  acquires  in  sleep  any  new  faculty  of  which  we 
are  not  conscious  while  awake ; but  only  (what  we  know  to  be 
a fact)  that  it  retains  some  of  its  powers,  while  the  exercise  of 
others  is  suspended ; and  I have  deduced  synthetically  the  known 
phenomena  of  dreaming,  from  the  oj^eration  of  a particular 
class  of  our  faculties,  uucorrected  by  the  operation  of  another. 
I flatter  myself,  therefore,  that  this  inquiry  will  not  only  throw 
some  light  on  the  state  of  the  mind  in  sleep ; but  that  it  will 
have  a tendency  to  illustrate  the  mutual  adaptation  and  sub- 
serviency which  exist  among  the  ditferent  parts  of  our  consti- 
tution, when  we  are  in  complete  possession  of  all  the  faculties 
and  pi'inciples  which  belong  to  our  nature.* 


the  -will.  All  the  active  principles  of  our  nature  then  reign  unchecked, 
and  one  is  quite  as  likely  to  be  governed  by  the  more  noble,  as  by  the  more 
debasing,  among  their  number.  In  an  instance  described  by  Tinel,  brutal 
and  violent  as  -were  most  of  the  actions  of  the  young  man,  we  learn  that 
he  readily  gave  way,  at  times,  to  motions  of  beneficence  and  compassion. 
He  was  literally  the  creature  of  his  impulses,  and  blindly  followed  them, 
wliether  they  pointed  to  good  or  evil.  His  condition,  then,  was  very  like 
tliat  of  other  maniacs,  who  are  commonly  said  to  be  subject  to  insane  im- 
pulses ; only,  in  his  case,  the  will  seemed  to  be  absolutely  bereft  of  its 
rightful  authority  over  the  passions,  while  in  theirs,  it  is  powerless  only  at 
intervals,  or  under  particular  excitement.  Strictly  speaking,  the  impulse 
is  not  a mark  of  insanity,  nor  unusual  in  its  character.  The  thought  of 
killing  may  frequently  enter  the  mind  of  a passionate,  but  perfectly  sane, 
person  ; but  it  is  instantly  put  aside,  as  an  idle  or  wicked  fancy,  by  the 
conscience.  The  will  masters  such  vague  but  horrible  thoughts,  almost 
■without  the  consciousness  of  effort.  But  as  the  gradual  approach  of  dis- 
ease weakens  its  command  over  the  succession  of  ideas,  the  devilish 
thought  intrudes  more  frequently,  and  will  not  “ down  at  his  bidding.” 
An  air-drawn  dagger  becomes  visible  to  the  “ heat-oppressed  brain,”  and 
the  patient  clutches  the  real  weapon  at  last,  in  what  is,  for  the  moment, 
an  uncontrollable  frenzy.] 

• Soon  after  the  publication  of  the  first  edition  of  this  work,  a difficulty 


208  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


PART  II. 

OF  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  ASSOCIATION  ON  THE  INTELLECTUAL 
AND  ON  THE  ACTIVE  POWERS. 

I.  Of  the  influence  of  casual  associations  on  our  speculative 
conclusions.  — The  association  of  ideas  has  a tendency  to  warp 
our  speculative  opinions  chiefly  in  the  three  following  ways : — 


was  started  to  me  with  respect  to  my  conclusions  concerning  the  state  of 
the  mind  in  sleep,  by  my  excellent  friend  M.  Pre'vost,  of  Geneva ; a gentle- 
man who  has  long  held  a high  rank  in  the  republic  of  letters,  and  to  whose 
valuable  correspondence  I have  often  been  indebted  for  much  pleasure  and 
instruction.  The  same  difficulty  was  proposed  to  me,  nearly  about  the 
same  time,  by  another  friend,  [Dr.  Thomas  Brown,]  then  at  a very  early 
period  of  life,  who  has  since  honorably  distinguished  himself  by  his  observa 
tions  on  Dr.  Darwin’s  Zoonomia ; the  first  fruits  of  a philosophical  genius, 
which,  I trust,  is  destined  for  yet  more  important  undertakings.” 

As  M.  Prevost  has,  in  the  present  instance,  kindly  aided  me  in  the  task 
of  removing  his  own  objection,  I shall  take  the  liberty  to  borrow  his  words. 

[“  Without  the  action  of  the  will,  there  can  be  no  effort  of  attention ; 
without  some  effort  of  attention,  there  can  be  no  memory.  Now,  in  sleep, 
the  action  of  tli.e  will  is  suspended.  How,  then,  can  there  be  any  recollec- 
tion of  dreams  I 

“ I see  tliere  are  two  or  three  solutions  of  this  difficulty ; for  the  pre.sent, 
they  are  reduced  to  this  observation,  either  that  in  perfect  sleep  there  is  no 
recollection,  and  when  we  do  recollect,  that  our  sleep  was  not  perfect ; or 
that  the  action  of  the  will  which  is  sufficient  for  memory,  is  not  suspended 
during  sleep,  — that  this  degree  of  activity  remains  to  the  mind,  being,  as  it 
were,  an  elementary  and  almost  imperceptible  volition.”] 

I am  abundantly  sensible  of  the  force  of  this  objection  ; and  am  far  from 
being  satisfied,  that  it  is  in  my  power  to  reconcile  completely  the  apparent 
inconsistency.  The  general  conclusions,  at  the  same  time,  to  which  I have 
been  led,  seem  to  result  so  necessarily  from  the  fircts  I have  stated,  that  even 
although  the  difficulty  in  question  should  remain  for  the  present  unsolved, 
it  would  not,  in  my  opinion,  materially  affect  the  evidence  on  which  they 
rest.  In  all  our  inquiries,  it  is  of  consequence  to  remember,  that  when  we 
have  once  arrived  at  a general  principle  by  a careful  induction,  we  are  not 
entitled  to  reject  it,  because  wo  may  find  ourselves  unable  to  explain  from 
it,  synthetically,  all  the  phenomena  in  which  it  is  concerned.  The  New- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


209 


Fi7st,hj  blending  together  in  our  apprehensions  things  which 
are  really  distinct  in  their  nature  ; so  as  to  introduce  perplexity 
and  error  into  every  process  of  reasoning  in  which  they  are 
involved. 

Secondly,  by  misleading  us  in  those  anticipations  of  the  fu- 
ture from  the  past,  which  our  constitution  disposes  us  to  form, 
and  which  are  the  great  foundation  of  our  conduct  in  life. 

Thirdly,  by  connecting  in  the  mind  erroneous  opinions  with 
truths  which  irresistibly  command  our  assent,  and  which  we  feel 
to  be  of  importance  to  human  happiness. 

A short  illustration  of  these  remarks  will  throw  light  on  the 
origin  of  various  prejudices ; and  may,  perhaps,  suggest  some 
practical  hints  with  respect  to  the  conduct  of  the  understanding. 

1.  Association  often  blends  together  things  which  are  really 
distinct.  — I formerly  had  occasion  to  mention  several  instances 
of  very  intimate  associations  formed  between  two  ideas  which 
have  no  necessary  connection  with  each  other.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  is,  that  which  exists  in  every  person’s  mind  between 
the  notions  of  color  and  of  extension.  The  former  of  these 
words  expresses  (at  least  in  the  sense  in  which  we  commonly 
employ  it)  a sensation  in  the  mind;  the  latter  denotes  a quality 
of  an  external  object ; so  that  there  is,  in  fact,  no  more  connection 
between  the  two  notions  than  between  those  of  pain  and  of 
solidity;*  and  yet,  in  consequence  of  our  always  perceiving 

tonian  theory  of  the  tides  is  not  the  less  certain,  that  some  apparent  excep- 
tions occur  to  it,  of  which  it  is  not  easy  (in  consequence  of  our  imperfect 
knowledge  of  the  local  circumstances  by  which,  in  particular  cases,  the 
effect  is  modified)  to  give  a satisfactory  explanation. 

Of  the  solutions  suggested  by  M.  Prevost,  the  first  coincides  most  nearly 
with  my  own  opinion;  and  it  approaches  to  what  I have  hinted  (in  page 
202  of  this  work)  concerning  the  seeming  exceptions  to  my  doctrine,  which 
may  occur  in  those  cases  where  sleep  is  partial.  A strong  confirmation  of 
it,  undoubtedly,  may  be  derived  from  the  experience  of  those  persons, 
(several  of  whom  I have  happened  to  meet  with,)  who  never  recollect  to 
have  dreamed,  excepting  when  the  soundness  of  their  sleep  was  disturbed 
by  some  derangement  in  their  general  health,  or  by  some  accident  which 
excited  a bodily  sensation. 

* Dr.  Eeid  has,  with  great  truth,  observed,  that  Des  Cartes’  reasonings 
against  the  existence  of  the  secondary  qualities  of  matter,  owe  all  their 
18* 


210 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


extension,  at  tlie  same  time  at  which  the  sensation  of  color  is 
excited  in  the  mind,  we  find  it  impossible  to  think  of  that  sen- 
sation, without  conceiving  extension  along  with  it. 

Another  intimate  association  is  formed  in  every  mind  between 
the  ideas  of  space  and  of  time.  When  we  think  of  an  interval 
of  duration,  we  always  conceive  it  as  something  analogous  to  a 

plausibility  to  the  ambiguity  of  words.  When  he  affirms,  for  example, 
that  the  smell  of  a rose  is  not  in  the  flower,  but  in  the  mind,  his  proposi- 
tion amounts  only  to  this,  that  the  rose  is  not  conscious  of  the  sensation 
of  smell ; but  it  does  not  follow  from  Des  Cartes'  reasonings,  that  there  is 
no  quality  in  the  rose  which  excites  the  sensation  of  smell  in  the  mind;  — 
which  is  all  that  any  person  means  when  he  speaks  of  the  smell  of  that 
florvcr.  For  the  word  smell,  like  the  names  of  all  secondary  qualities, 
signifies  two  things,  a sensation  in  the  mind,  and  the  unknown  quality 
which  fits  it  to  excite  that  sensation.  The  same  remark  applies  to  that 
process  of  reasoning  by  which  Des  Cartes  attempts  to  prove  that  there  is 
no  heat  in  the  fire. 

All  this,  I think,  will  he  readily  allowed  with  respect  to  smells  and 
tastes,  and  also  with  respect  to  heat  and  cold  ; concerning  which,  I agree 
with  Dr.  lieid,  in  thinking  that  Des  Cartes’  doctrine,  when  cleared  of  that 
air.  of  mystery  which  it  derives  from  the  amliignity  of  words,  differs  very 
little,  if  at  all,  from  the  commonly  received  notions.  But  the  case  seems 
to  be  different  with  respect  to  colors,  of  the  nature  of  which  the  vulgar  are 
apt  to  form  a very  confused  conception,  which  the  philosophy  of  Des 
Cartes  has  a tendency  to  correct.  Dr.  llcid  has  justly  distinguished  the 
qualify  of  color  from  what  he  calls  the  appearance  of  color,  which  last  can 
only  exist  in  a mind.  Now  I am  disposed  to  believe,  that  when  the  vulgar 
sjieak  of  color,  they  commonly  mean  the  appearance  of  color ; or  rather  they 
associate  the  appearance  and  its  cause  so  intimately  together,  that  they 
find  it  impossible  to  think  of  them  separately.  The  sensation  of  color 
never  forms  one  simple  object  of  attention  to  the  mind,  like  those  of  smell 
and  taste  ; but  every  time  we  are  conscious  of  it,  we  perceive  at  the  same 
time  extension  and  figure.  Hence  it  is,  that  we  find  it  impossible  to  con- 
ceive color  without  extension,  though  certainly  there  is  no  more  necessary 
connection  between  them,  than  between  extension  and  smell. 

From  this  habit  of  associating  the  two  together,  we  are  led  also  to  assign 
them  the  same  place,  and  to  conceive  the  different  colors,  or,  to  use  Dr. 
Reid’s  language,  the  appearance  of  the  different  colors,  as  something 
spread  over  the  surfaces  of  bodies.  I Own,  that  when  we  reflect  on  the 
subject  with  attention,  we  find  this  conception  to  be  indistinct,  and  see 
clearly  that  the  appearance  of  color  can  exist  only  in  a mind ; but  still  it 
is  some  confused  notion  of  this  sort,  which  every  man  is  disposed  to  form 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


211 


line,  and  we  apply  the  same  language  to  both  subjects.  We 
speak  of  a long  and  short  time,  as  well  as  of  a long  and  short 
distance  ; and  we  are  not  conscious  of  any  metaphor  in  doing 
so.  Nay,  so  very  perfect  does  the  analogy  appear  to  us,  that 
Boscovich  mentions  it  as  a curious  circumstance,  that  extension 
should  have  three  dimensions,  and  duration  only  one. 

This  apprehended  analogy  seems  to  be  founded  wholly  on  an 
association  between  the  ideas  of  space  and  of  time,  arising  from 
our  always  measuring  the  one  of  these  quantities  by  the  other. 
We  measure  time  by  motion,  and  motion  by  extension.  In  an 
hour,  the  hand  of  the  clock  moves  over  a certain  space ; in  two 
hours,  over  double  the  space ; and  so  on.  Hence  the  ideas  of 
space  and  of  time  become  very  intimately  united,  and  ive  apply 
to  the  latter  the  words  long  and  short,  before  and  after,  in  the 
same  manner  as  to  the  former. 

The  apprehended  analogy  between  the  relation  which  the 
different  notes  in  the  scale  of  music  bear  to  each  other,  and  the 
relation  of  superiority  and  inferiority,  in  respect  of  position, 
among  material  objects,  arises  also  from  an  accidental  associa- 
tion of  ideas. 

What  this  association  is  founded  upon,  I shall  not  take  upon 
me  to  determine ; but  that  it  is  the  effect  of  accident,  appears 
clearly  from  this,  that  it  has  not  only  been  confined  to  particular 


who  has  not  been  very  familiarly  conversant  with  philosophical  inquiries.  — 
I find,  at  least,  that  such  is  the  notion  which  most  readily  presents  itself 
to  my  own  mind. 

Nor  is  this  reference  of  the  sensation,  or  appearance,  of  color  to  an 
external  object,  a fact  altogether  singular  in  our  constitution.  It  is  ex- 
tremely analogous  to  the  reference,  which  we  always  make,  of  the  sensations 
of  touch  to  those  parts  of  the  body  where  the  exciting  causes  of  the  sen- 
sations exist.  If  I strike  my  hand  against  a hard  object,  I naturally  say, 
that  I feel  pain  in  my  hand.  The  philosophical  truth  is,  that  I perceive 
the  cause  of  the  pain  to  be  applied  to  that  part  of  my  body.  The  sen- 
sation itself  I cannot  refer,  in  point  of  place,  to  the  hand,  without  conceiv- 
ing the  soul  to  be  spread  over  the  body  by  diffusion. 

A still  more  striking  analogy  to  the  fact  under  our  consideration,  occurs 
in  those  sensations  of  touch  which  we  refer  to  a place  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  body ; as  in  the  case  of  pain  felt  in  an  amputated  limb. 


212 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


ages  and  nations,  bnt  is  the  very  reverse  of  an  association 
which  was  once  equally  prevalent.  It  is  observed  by  Dr. 
Gregory,  in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  Euclid’s  works,  that 
the  more  ancient  of  the  Greek  writers  looked  upon  grave  sounds 
as  high,  and  acute  ones  as  low  ; and  that  the  present  mode  of 
xpression  on  that  subject  was  an  innovation  introduced  at  a 
later  period.* 

In  the  instances  which  have  now  been  mentioned,  our  habits 
of  combining  the  notions  of  two  things  become  so  strong,  that 
we  find  it  impossible  to  think  of  the  one,  without  thinking  at  the 
same  time  of  the  other.  Various  other  examples  of  the  same 
species  of  combination,  although,  perhaps,  not  altogether  so 
striking  in  degree,  might  easily  be  collected  from  the  subjects 
about  which  our  metaphysical  speculations  are  employed.  The 
sensations,  for  instance,  which  are  excited  in  the  mind  by  exter- 
nal objects,  and  the  'perceptions  of  material  qualities  which  follow 
these  sensations,  are  to  be  distinguished  from  each  other  only 
by  long  habits  of  2)atient  reflection.  A clear  conception  of  this 
distinction  may  be  regarded  as  the  key  to  all  Dr.  Reid’s  reason- 
ings concerning  the  process  of  nature  in  perception ; and  till  it 
has  once  been  rendered  familiar  to  the  reader,  a gi’eat  part  of 
his  writings  must  appear  unsatisfactory  and  obscure.  In  truth, 
our  j)rogress  in  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind  depends 
much  more  on  that  severe  and  discriminating  judgment,  which 


* The  association  to  which,  in  modern  times,  we  are  habituated  from 
our  infancy,  between  the  ideas  of  acute  and  high,  and  between  those  of 
grave  and  low,  is  accounted  for  by  Dr.  Smith,  in.  his  Harmonics,  from  the 
formation  of  the  voice  in  singing  ; [the  deep  or  grave  sounds  appearing  to 
come  from  the  lower  part  of  the  throat,  and  the  acute  or  sharp  notes  from 
above.] 

Dr.  Beattie,  in  his  ingenious  essay  on  poetry  and  music,  says  it  is  prob- 
able that  the  deepest  or  gravest  sound  was  called  summa  by  the  Romans, 
and  the  shrillest  or  acutest  ima ; and  he  conjectures,  that  “ this  might  have 
been  owing  to  the  construction  of  tlieir  instruments ; the  string  that 
sounded  the  former  being  perhaps  highest  in  place,  and  that  which 
sounded  the  latter  lowest.”  If  this  conjecture  could  be  verified,  it  would 
afford  a proof  from  the  fiict,  how  liable  the  mind  is  to  be  influenced  in 
this  respect  by  casual  combinations. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


213 


enables  us  to  sepai-ate  ideas  -which  nature  or  habit  have  imme- 
diately combined,  than  on  acuteness  of  reasoning  or  fertility  of 
invention.  And  hence  it  is,  that  metaphysical  studies  are  the 
best  of  all  preparations  for  those  philosophical  pursuits  which 
relate  to  the  conduct  of  life.  In  none  of  these,  do  we  meet  with 
casual  combinations  so  intimate  and  indissoluble  as  those  which 
occur  in  metaphysics ; and  he  who  has  been  accustomed  to  such 
discriminations  as  this  science  requires,  will  not  easily  be  im- 
posed on  by  that  confusion  of  ideas,  which  warps  the  judg- 
ments of  the  multitude  in  moral,  religious,  and  political  in- 
quiries. 

From  the  facts  which  have  now  been  stated,  it  is  easy  to  con- 
ceive the  manner  in  which  the  association  of  ideas  has  a tendency 
to  mislead  the  judgment  in  the  frst  of  the  three  cases  already 
enumerated.  When  two  subjects  of  thought  are  so  intimately 
connected  together  in  the  mind,  that  we  find  it  scarcely  possible 
to  consider  them  apart,  it  must  require  no  common  eflforts  of 
attention,  to  conduct  any  process  of  reasoning  which  relates  to 
either.  I formerly  took  notice  of  the  errors  to  which  we  are 
exposed  in  consequence  of  the  ambiguity  of  toords  ; and  of  the 
necessity  of  frequent  checking  and  correcting  our  general  rea- 
sonings by  means  of  particular  examples  ; but  in  the  cases  to 
which  I allude  at  present,  there  is  (if  I may  use  the  expression) 
an  ambiguity  of  things  ; so  that,  even  when  the  mind  is  occupied 
about  particulars,  it  finds  it  difficult  to  separate  the  proper  ob- 
jects of  its  attention  from  others  with  which  it  has  been  long 
accustomed  to  blend  them.  The  cases,  indeed,  in  which  such 
obstinate  and  invincible  associations  are  formed  among  different 
subjects  of  thought,  are  not  very  numerous,  and  occur  chiefly 
in  our  metaphysical  researches ; but  in  every  mind,  casual 
combinations  of  an  inferior  degree  of  strength,  have  an  habitual 
effect  in  disturbing  the  intellectual  powers,  and  are  not  to  be 
conquered  without  persevering  exertions,  of  which  few  men  ai’O 
capable.  The  obvious  effects  which  this  tendency  to  combi- 
nation produces  on  the  judgment,  in  confounding  together  those 
ideas  which  it  is  the  province  of  the  metaphysician  to  distinguish, 
sufficiently  illustrate  the  mode  of  its  operation  in  those  numer- 


214  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


ous  instances,  in  which  its  influence,  though  not  so  complete 
and  striking,  is  equally  real,  and  fl\r  more  dangerous. 

2.  Association  misleads  us  in  judging  of  the  future  from  the 
past.  — The  association  of  ideas  is  a source  of  speculative  error, 
hy  misleading  us  in  those  anticipations  of  the  future  from  the 
past,  which  are  the  foundation  of  our  conduct  in  life. 

The  great  object  of  philosophy,  as  I have  already  remarked 
more  than  once,  is  to  ascertain  the  laws  * which  regulate  the  suc- 
cession of  events,  both  in  the  physical  and  morcd  worlds ; in 
order  that,  when  called  upon  to  act  in  any  particular  combi- 
nation of  circumstances,  we  may  be  enabled  to  anticipate  the 
probable  course  of  nature  from  our  past  experience,  and  to 
regulate  our  conduct  accordingly. 

As  a knowledge  of  the  established  connections  among  events 
is  the  foundation  of  sagacity  and  of  skill,  both  in  the  practical 
arts,  and  in  the  conduct  of  life,  nature  has  not  only  given  to  all 
men  a strong  disposition  to  remark,  with  attention  and  curiosity, 
those  phenomena  which  have  been  observed  to  happen  nearly 
at  the  same  time  ; but  has  beautifully  adapted  to  the  uniformity 
of  her  own  operations,  the  laws  of  association  in  the  human 
mind.  By  rendering  contiguity  in  time  one  of  the  strongest  of 
our  associating  principles,  she  has  conjoined  together  in  our 
thoughts  the  same  events  which  we  have  found  conjoined  in 
our  experience,  and  has  thus  accommodated  (without  any  effort 
on  our  part)  the  order  of  our  ideas  to  that  scene  in  which  we 
are  destined  to  act.f 

The  degi’ee  of  experience  which  is  necessary  for  the  preser- 
vation of  our  animal  existence,  is  acquired  by  aU  men  without 


* Sec  note  to  page  6. 

t [“  The  law  of  the  association  of  ideas,  which  is  the  regulative  principle 
of  memory,  corresponds  so  exactly  with  the  uniform  succession  of  cause  and 
effect,  which  is  the  regulative  principle  of  the  universe,  that  no  one  can 
doubt  that  the  one  was  specially  designed  to  be  the  complement  of  the 
other.  The  child  associates  the  idea  of  burning  with  that  of  the  fire  ; and 
every  pleasant  or  painful  feeling  reminds  him  of  the  occasion  when  it  was 
first  excited.  On  these  connections  of  thought,  the  whole  value  of  ex- 
perience depends.  If  memory  acted  disorderly,  the  effect,  for  all  practical 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS.  215 


any  particular  efforts  of  study.  The  laws  of  nature,  which  it  is 
most  material  for  us  to  know,  are  exposed  to  the  immediate 
observation  of  our  senses  ; and  establish,  by  means  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  association,  a corresponding  order  in  our  thoughts,  long 
before  the  dawn  of  reason  and  reflection  ; or  at  least,  long  before 
that  period  of  childhood,  to  which  our  recollection  afterwards 
extends. 

This  tendency  of  the  mind  to  associate  together  events  which 
have  been  presented  to  it  nearly  at  the  same  time,  although, 
on  the  whole,  it  is  attended  with  infinite  advantages,  yet  like 
many  other  principles  of  our  nature,  may  occasionally  be  a 
source  of  inconvenience,  unless  we  avail  ourselves  of  our  reason 
and  of  our  experience  in  keeping  it  under  proper  I’egulation. 
Among  the  vaidous  phenomena  which  are  continually  passing 
before  us,  there  is  a great  proportion,  whose  vicinity  in  time  does 
not  indicate  a constancy  of  conjunction  ; and  unless  we  be  care- 
ful to  make  the  distinction  between  these  two  classes  of  connec- 
tions, the  order  of  our  ideas  will  be  apt  to  correspond  with  the 
one  as  well  as  with  the  other ; and  our  unenlightened  experience 
of  the  past  will  fill  the  mind,  in  numberless  instances,  with  vain 
expectations,  or  with  groundless  alarms,  concerning  the  future. 
This  disposition  to  confound  together  accidental  and  permanent 
connections,  is  one  great  source  of  popular  superstitions;  Hence 
the  regard  which  is  paid  to  unlucky  days  ; to  unlucky  colors  ; and 
to  the  influence  of  the  j^lanets ; — apj^rehensions  which  render 
human  life,  to  many,  a continued  series  of  absurd  terrors.  Lu- 
cretius compares  them  to  those  which  children  feel,  from  an  idea 
of  the  existence  of  spirits  in  the  dark. 


purposes,  would  be  the  same  as  if  events  succeeded  each  other  at  random, 
and  not  in  an  unchangeable  sequence.  Before  the  past  can  be  a safe  guide 
as  to  the  future,  it  is  necessary,  not  only  that  the  same  effect  should  always 
follow  the  same  cause,  but  also  that  the  sight  of  the  cause  should  always 
and  instantly  remind  us  of  what  is  sure  to  succeed.  In  this  respect,  as  in 
many  others,  the  mind  is  a microcosm ; it  mirrors  to  us  those  aspects  of 
external  nature  which  are  most  necessary  to  be  presented  for  the  safety  of 
the  individual.  The  law  of  causation  is  also  the  law  of  memory.”]  — ■ 
Bowen’s  Lowell  Lectures,  p.  398. 


21 G THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 

“ Ac  veluti  pueri  trepidant,  atque  omnia  caecis 
In  tencbris  inetuunt,  sic  nos  in  luce  timemus, 

Interdmn  nihilo  quae  sunt  mctuenda  magis.” 

Sucli  spectres  can  be  dispelled  by  the  light  of  philosophy 
only ; which,  by  accustoming  us  to  trace  established  connections, 
teaches  us  to  despise  those  which  are  casual ; and,  by  giving  a 
proper  direction  to  that  bias  of  the  mind  which  is  the  foundation 
of  superstition,  prevents  it  from  leading  us  astray. 

Wrong  associations  may  mislead  even  enlightened  minds.  — In 
the  instances  which  we  have  now  been  considering,  events  come 
to  be  combined  together  in  the  mind,  merely  from  the  accidental 
ciicumstance  of  their  contiguity  in  time,  at  the  moment  when 
we  perceived  them.  Such  combinations  are  confined,  in  a great 
measure,  to  uncultivated  and  unenlightened  minds ; or  to  those 
individuals  who,  from  nature  or  education,  have  a more  than 
ordinary  facility  of  association.  But  there  are  other  accidental 
combinations,  which  are  apt  to  lay  hold  of  the  most  vigorous 
understandings ; and  from  which,  as  they  are  the  natural  and 
necessary  result  of  a limited  experience,  no  superiority  of  in- 
tellect is  sufficient  to  preserve  a philosopher,  in  the  infancy  of 
physical  science. 

As  the  connections  among  physical  events  are  discovered  to 
us  by  experience  alone,  it  is  evident  that,  when  we  see  a phe- 
nomenon preceded  by  a number  of  different  circumstances,  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  determine,  by  any  reasoning  a priori,  which 
of  these  circumstances  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  constant,  and 
which  as  the  accidental,  antecedents  of  the  effect.  If,  in  the 
course  of  our  experience,  the  same  combination  of  circum- 
stances is  always  exhibited  to  us  without  any  alteration,  and  is 
invariably  followed  by  the  same  result,  we  must  for  ever  remain 
ignorant,  whether  this  result  be  connected  with  the  whole  com- 
bination, or  with  one  or  more  of  the  circumstances  combined ; 
and  therefore,  if  we  are  anxious,  upon  any  occasion,  to  produce 
a similar  effect,  the  only  rule  that  we  can  follow  with  perfect 
security,  is  to  imitate  in  every  particular  circumstance  the 
combination  wdiich  we  have  seen.  It  is  only  where  we  have  an 
opportunity  of  separating  such  circumstances  from  each  other  5 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


217 


of  combining  them  variously  together;  and  of  observing  the 
effects  which  result  from  these  different  experiments,  that  we 
can  ascertain  with  precision  the  general  laws  of  nature,  and 
strip  physical  causes  of  their  accidental  and  unessential  con- 
comitants. 

To  illustrate  this  by  an  example.  Let  us  suppose  that  a 
savage,  who,  in  a particular  instance,  had  found  himself  relieved 
of  some  bodily  indisposition  by  a draught  of  cold  water,  is  a 
second  time  afflicted  with  a similar  disorder,  and  is  desirous  to 
repeat  the  same  remedy.  With  a Umited  degree  of  experience 
which  we  have  here  supposed  him  to  possess,  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  the  acutest  philosopher,  in  his  situation,  to  deter 
mine,  whether  the  cure  was  owing  to  the  water  which  was 
drunk,  to  the  cup  in  which  it  was  contained,  to  the  fountain 
from  which  it  was  taken,  to  the  particular  day  of  the  month,  or  to 
the  particular  age  of  the  moon.  In  order,  therefore,  to  insure  the 
success  of  the  remedy,  he  will  very  naturally,  and  very  wisely, 
copy,  as  far  as  he  can  recollect,  every  circumstance  which  ac- 
companied the  first  application  of  it.  He  will  make  use  of  the 
same  cup,  draw  the  water  from  the  same  fountain,  hold  his  body 
in  the  same  posture,  and  turn  his  face  in  the  same  direction ; and 
thus  all  the  accidental  circumstances  in  which  the  first  experi- 
ment was  made,  will  come  to  be  associated  equally  in  his  mind 
with  the  effect  produced.  The  fountain  from  which  the  water 
was  dra^vn,  will  be  considered  as  possessed  of  particular  virtues ; 
and  the  cup  from  which  it  was  drunk,  will  be  set  apart  from 
vulgar  uses,  for  the  sake  of  those  who  may  afterwards  have 
occasion  to  apply  the  remedy.  It  is  the  enlargement  of  ex- 
perience alone,  and  not  any  progress  in  the  art  of  reasoning, 
which  can  cure  the  mind  of  these  associations,  and  free  the 
practice  of  medicine  from  those  superstitious  observances  with 
which  we  always  find  it  incumbered  among  rude  nations. 

Many  instances  of  this  species  of  superstition  might  be  pro- 
duced from  the  works  of  philosophers  who  have  flourished  in 
more  enlightened  ages.  In  particular,  many  might  be  pro- 
duced from  the  writings  of  those  physical  inquirers  who  imme- 
diately succeeded  to  Lord  Bacon ; and  who,  convinced  by  his 
19 


218 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


arguments  of  the  folly  of  all  reasonings  a priori  concerning  the 
laws  of  nature,  were  frequently  apt  to  run  into  the  opposite 
extreme,  by  recording  every  circumstance,  even  the  most  ludi- 
crous, and  the  most  obviously  unessential,  which  attended  their 
experiments.* 

Moral  and  political  prejudices  traced  to  the  association  of 
ideas.  — The  observations  ivhich  have  been  hitherto  made,  re- 
late entirely  to  associations  founded  on  casual  combinations  of 
material  objects,  or  of  physical  events.  The  effects  which  these 
associations  produce  on  the  understanding,  and  which  are  so 
palpable  that  they  cannot  fail  to  strike  the  most  careless  ob- 
server, will  prepare  the  reader  for  the  remarks  I am  now  to 
make,  on  some  analogous  prejudices  which  warp  our  opinions 
on  still  more  important  subjects. 

As  the  established  laws  of  the  material  world,  which  have 
been  exhibited  to  our  senses  from  our  infancy,  gradually  ac- 
commodate to  themselves  the  order  of  our  thoughts ; so  the 
most  arbitrary  and  capricious  institutions  and  customs,  by  a 
long  and  constant  and  exclusive  operation  on  the  mind,  acquire 
such  an  influence  in  forming  the  intellectual  habits,  that  every 
deviation  from  them  not  only  produces  surprise,  but  is  apt  to 
excite  sentiments  of  contempt  and  of  ridicule.f  A person  who 
has  never  extended  his  views  beyond  that  society  of  which  he 
himself  is  a member,  is  apt  to  consider  many  peculiarities  in  the 
manners  and  customs  of  his  countrymen  as  founded  on  the  uni- 
versal principles  of  the  human  constitution  ; and  when  he  hears 
of  other  nations,  whose  practices  in  similar  cases  are  different. 


* The  reader  will  scarcely  believe,  that  the  following  cure  for  a dysen- 
tery is  copied  verbatim  from  the  works  of  Mr.  Boyle  : — 

“Take  the  thigh-bone  of  a hanged  man,  (perhaps  another  may  senm, 
but  this  was  still  made  use  of,)  calcine  it  to  wliiteness,  and  having  purged 
the  patient  with  an  antimonial  medicine,  give  him  one  drachm  of  this  white 
powder  for  one  dose,  in  some  good  cordial,  whether  conserve  or  liquor.” 
t “Nous  nous  accoutumons  ii  tout  ce  quo  nous  voyons  ; et  je  ne  scais 
si  le  consulat  du  cheval  de  Caligula  nous  auroit  autant  surpris  que  nous 
nous  I’imaginons.”  [We  become  accustomed  to  every  thing  which  we  see  ; 
and  I do  not  know  that  the  consulship  of  Caligula’s  horse  would  have 
surprised  us  as  much  as  we  imagine.]  — Cardinal  de  Retz. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


219 


lie  is  apt  to  censure  them  as  unnatural,  and  to  despise  them  as 
absurd.  There  are  two  classes  of  men  who  have  more  par- 
ticularly been  charged  with  this  weakness  ; those  who  are  placed 
at  the  bottom,  and  those  who  have  reached  the  summit,  of  the 
scale  of  refinement ; the  former  from  ignorance,  and  the  latter 
from  national  vanity. 

For  curing  this  class  of  prejudices,  the  obvious  expedient 
which  nature  points  out  to  us,  is  to  extend  our  acquaintance 
with  human  affairs,  either  by  means  of  books,  or  of  personal 
observation.  The  effects  of  travelling,  in  enlarging  and  in  en- 
lightening the  mind,  are  obvious  to  our  daily  experience ; and 
similar  advantages  may  be  derived,  (although,  perhaps,  not  in 
an  equal  degree,)  from  a cai’eful  study  of  the  manners  of  past 
ages  or  of  distant  nations,  as  they  are  described  by  the  his- 
torian. In  making,  however,  these  attempts  for  our  intellectual 
improvement,  it  is  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  us  to  vary,  to 
a considerable  degree,  the  objects  of  our  attention,  in  order  to 
prevent  any  danger  of  our  acquiring  an  exclusive  preference 
for  the  caprices  of  any  one  people,  whose  political  situation,  or 
whose  moral  character,  may  attach  us  to  them  as  faultless 
models  for  our  imitation.  The  same  weakness  and  versatility 
of  mind,  the  same  facility  of  association,  which,  in  the  case  of 
a person  who  has  never  extended  his  views  beyond  his  own 
community,  is  a source  of  national  prejudice  and  of  national 
bigotry,  renders  the  mind,  when  formed  into  new  situations, 
easily  susceptible  of  other  prejudices  no  less  capricious  ; and 
frequently  prevents  the  time,  which  is  devoted  to  travelling,  or 
to  study,  from  being  subservient  to  any  better  purpose,  than  an 
importation  of  foreign  fashions,  or  a still  more  ludicrous  imita- 
tion of  ancient  follies. 

The  philosopher  whose  thoughts  dwell  habitually,  not  merely 
upon  what  is,  or  what  has  been,  but  upon  what  is  best  and 
most  expedient  for  mankind ; who,  to  the  study  of  books,  and 
the  observation  of  manners,  has  added  a careful  examination  of 
the  principles  of  the  human  constitution,  and  of  those  which 
ought  to  regulate  the  social  order ; is  the  only  person  who  is 
effectually  secured  against  both  the  weaknesses  which  I have 


*220  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 

described.  By  learning  to  separate  wliat  Is  essential  to  morality 
and  to  happiness,  from  those  adventitious  trifles  which  it  is  the 
province  of  fashion  to  direct,  he  is  equally  guarded  against  the 
follies  of  national  prejudices,  and  a weak  deviation,  in  matters 
of  inditfercnce,  tfom  established  ideas.  Upon  his  mind,  thus 
occupied  with  important  subjects  of  reflection,  the  fluctuating 
caprices  and  fashions  of  the  times  lose  their  influence ; while 
accustomed  to  avoid  the  slavery  of  local  and  arbitrary  habits, 
he  possesses,  in  his  own  genuine  simplicity  of  character,  the 
same  power  of  accommodation  to  external  circumstances,  which 
men  of  the  world  derive  from  the  pliability  of  their  taste  and 
the  versatility  of  their  manners.  As  the  order  too,  of  his  ideas 
is  accommodated,  not  to  what  is  casually  presented  from  without, 
but  to  his  own  systematical  principles,  his  associations  are  sub- 
ject only  to  those  slow  and  pleasing  changes  which  arise  from 
his  grow'ing  light  and  improving  reason  ; and,  in  such  a period 
of  the  world  as  at  present,  when  the  press  not  only  excludes 
the  possibility  of  a permanent  retrogradation  in  human  affairs, 
but  operates  with  an  irresistible  though  gradual  progress,  in 
undermining  prejudices  and  in  extending  the  triumphs  of  phi- 
losophy, he  may  reasonably  indulge  the  hope,  that  society  will 
every  day  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to  what  he  wishes  it  to 
be.  A man  of  such  a character,  instead  of  looking  back  on  the 
past  with  regret,  finds  himself  (if  I may  use  the  expression) 
more  at  home  in  the  world,  and  more  satisfied  with  its  order, 
the  longer  he  lives  in  it.  The  melancholy  contrast  which  old 
men  are  sometimes  disposed  to  state,  between  its  condition 
when  they  are  about  to  leave  it,  and  that  in  which  they  found  it 
at  the  commencement  of  their  career,  arises,  in  most  cases, 
from  the  unlimited  influence  which,  in  their  early  years,  they 
had  allowed  to  the  fashions  of  the  times,  in  the  formation  of 
their  characters.  How  different  from  those  sentiments  and 
jii'ospects  which  dignified  the  retreat  of  Turgot,  and  brightened 
the  declining  years  of  Franklin  ! 

How  unconscious  changes  of  opinion  are  produced.  — The 
querulous  temper,  however,  which  is  incident  to  old  men, 
although  it  renders  their  manners  disagreeable  in  the  inter- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


221 


course  of  social  life,  is  by  no  means  tbe  most  contemptible  form 
in  which  the  prejudices  I have  how  been  describing  may  dis- 
play their  influence.  Such  a temper  indicates  at  least  a certain 
degree  of  observation,  in  marking  the  vicissitudes  of  human 
affairs,  and  a certain  degi’ee  of  sensibility  in  early  life,  which 
has  connected  pleasing  ideas  with  the  scenes  of  infancy  and 
youth.  A very  great  proportion  of  mankind  are,  in  a great 
measure,  incapable  either  of  the  one  or  of  the  other ; and  suffering 
themselves  to  be  carried  quietly  along  with  the  stream  of  fashion, 
and  finding  their  opinions  and  their  feelings  always  in  the  same 
relative  situation  to  the  fleeting  objects  around  them,  are  per- 
fectly unconscious  of  any  progress  in  their  own  ideas,  or  of  any 
change  in  the  manners  of  their  age.  In  vain  the  philosopher 
reminds  them  of  the  opinions  they  yesterday  held ; and  fore- 
warns them,  from  the  spirit  of  the  tunes,  of  those  which  they 
are  to  hold  to-morrow.  Tlie  opinions  of  the  present  moment 
seem  to  them  to  be  inseparable  from  their  constitution ; and 
^\•hen  the  prospects  are  realized,  which  they  lately  treated  as 
chimerical,  their  minds  are  so  gradually  prepared  for  the  event, 
that  they  behold  it  without  any  emotions  of  wonder  or  curiosity ; 
and  it  is  to  the  philosopher  alone,  by  whom  it  was  predicted, 
that  it  appears  to  furnish  a subject  worthy  of  future  reflection.* 
The  prejudices  to  which  the  last  observ  ations  relate,  have 
their  origin  in  that  disposition  of  our  nature,  which  accommo- 
dates the  order  of  our  ideas,  and  our  various  intellectual  habits, 


* Some  reflections  similar  to  the  above  are  subjoined  by  Gibbon  to  his 
account  of  the  fable  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  of  Ephesus.  “ The  story  of 
the  seven  sleepers  has  been  adopted  and  adorned  by  the  nations  from 
Bengal  to  Africa,  who  profess  the  Mahometan  religion  ; and  some  vestiges 
of  a similar  tradition  have  been  discovered  in  the  remote  exti’emities  of 
Scandinavia.  This  easy  and  universal  belief,  so  expressive  of  the  sense 
of  mankind,  may  be  ascribed  to  the  genuine  merit  of  the  fable  itself. 
We  imperceptibly  advance  from  youth  to  age,  without  obsenung  the 
gradual,  but  incessant  change  of  human  affairs ; and  even  in  our  larger 
experience  of  history,  the  imagination  is  accustomed,  by  a perpetual  series 
of  causes  and  affects,  to  unite  the  most  distant  revolutions.  But  if  the 
interval  between  two  memorable  eras  could  be  instantly  annihilated ; if  it 
were  possible,  after  a momentary  slumber  of  two  hundred  years,  to  dis> 

19* 


222 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


to  whatever  appearances  have  been  long  and  familiarly  pre- 
sented to  the  mind.  But  there  are  other  prejudices,  which,  by 
being. intimately  associated  with  the  essential  principles  of  our 
constitution,  or  with  the  original  and  universal  laws  of  our  belief, 
are  incomparably  more  inveterate  in  their  nature,  and  have  a 
far  more  extensive  influence  on  human  character  and  happiness. 

3.  The  support  which  error  derives  from  its  accidental  associa- 
tion with  truth.  — The  manner  in  which  the  association  of  ideas 
operates  in  producing  this  third  class  of  our  speculative  errors, 
may  be  conceived,  in  part,  from  what  was  formerly  said,  con- 
cerning the  superstitious  observances,  which  are  mixed  with  the 
practice  of  medicine  among  rude  nations.  As  all  the  different 
circumstances  wdiich  accompanied  the  first  administration  of  a 
remedy,  come  to  be  considered  as  essential  to  its  future  success, 
and  are  blended  together  in  our  conceptions,  without  any  dis- 
crimination of  their  relative  importance ; so,  whatever  tenets 
and  ceremonies  we  have  been  taught  to  connect  with  the  re- 
ligious creed  of  our  infancy,  become  almost  a part  of  our  con- 
stitution, by  being  indissolubly  united  with  truths  which  are 
essential  to  happiness,  and  which  we  are  led  to  reverence  and  to 
love  by  all  the  best  dispositions  of  the  heart.  The  astonish- 
ment which  the  peasant  feels,  when  he  sees  the  rites  of  a religion 
different  from  his  own,  is  not  less  great  than  if  he  saw  some 
flagrant  breach  of  the  moral  duties,  or  some  direct  act  of  im- 
piety to  God ; nor  is  it  easy  for  him  to  conceive,  that  there  can 
be  any  thing  worthy  in  a mind  which  treats  with  indifference 

])lay  the  new  world  to  the  eyes  of  a spectator,  who  still  retained  a lively 
and  recent  impression  of  the  old,  his  surprise  and  his  reflections  would 
fnrnish  the  pleasing  subject  of  a philosophical  romance.”  — Decline  and 
Fall.  vol.  6,  pp.  35,  36. 

To  these  observations  may  be  added  a remark  of  Lord  Bacon’s,  to  the 
truth  of  which  our  daily  experience  bears  testimony.  “Levitas  hominum 
atque  inconstantia  hinc  optime  persi>ici  potest,  qui  donee  res  aliqna  per- 
fecta  sit,  cam  mirantur  fieri  posse  ; postqnam  facta  semel  est,  iterum 
inirantur  cam  jampridem  factam  non  fuisse.”  [The  levity  and  incon- 
sistency of  men  can  best  be  seen  in  this  ; — that  before  a certain  thing 
is  accomplished,  they  doubt  its  ])ossibility ; but  when  it  is  once  done, 
they  wonder  why  it  was  not  done  long  ago.]  — Bac.  De.  Aug.  Sclent.  Lib.  i. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


223 


wliat  awakens  in  his  own  breast  all  its  best  and  sublimest  emo- 
tions. “ Is  it  possible,”  says  the  old  and  expiring  Bramin,  in 
one  of  Marmontel’s  tales,  to  the  young  English  officer  who  had 
saved  the  life  of  his  daughter,  “ is  it  possible,  that  he  to  whose 
compassion  I owe  the  preservation  of  my  child,  and  who  now 
soothes  my  last  moments  with  the  consolations  of  piety,  should 
not  believe  in  the  god  Vistnou,  and  his  nine  metamorphoses  ! ” 

What  has  now  been  said  on  the  nature  of  religious  supersti- 
tion, may  be  applied  to  many  other  subjects.  In  pai’ticular,  it, 
may  be  applied  to  those  political  prejudices  which  bias  the  judg- 
ment even  of  enlightened  men  in  all  countries  of  the  world. 

How  deeply  rooted  in  the  human  frame  are  those  important 
principles,  which  interest  the  good  man  in  the  prosperity  of  the 
world ; and  more  especially  in  the  prosperity  of  that  beloved 
community  to  which  he  belongs  ! How  small,  at  the  same  time, 
is  the  number  of  individuals,  who,  accustomed  to  contemplate 
one  modification  alone  of  the  social  order,  are  able  to  distinguish 
the  circumstances  which  are  essential  to  human  happiness,  from 
those  which  are  indifferent  or  hurtful ! In  such  a situation,  how 
natural  is  it  for  a man  of  benevolence,  to  acquire  an  indiscrimi- 
nate and  superstitious  veneration  for  all  the  institutions  under 
which  he  has  been  educated  ; as  these  institutions,  however 
capricious  and  absurd  in  themselves,  are  not  only  familiarized 
by  habit  to  all  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  but  are  consecrated  in 
liis  mind  by  an  Indissoluble  association  with  duties  which  nature 
recommends  to  his  affections,  and  which  reason  commands  him 
to  fulfil.  It  is  on  these  accounts,  that  a superstitious  zeal  against 
innovation,  both  in  religion  and  politics,  where  it  is  evidently 
grafted  on  piety  to  God  and  good-will  to  mankind,  however  it 
may  excite  the  sorrow  of  the  more  enlightened  philosopher,  is 
justly  entitled,  not  only  to  his  indulgence,  but  to  his  esteem  and 
affection. 

The  remai’ks  which  have  been  already  made,  are  sufficient  to 
show  how  necessary  it  is  for  us,  in  the  formation  of  our  philo- 
sophical principles,  to  examine  with  care  all  those  opinions  which, 
in  our  early  years,  we  have  imbibed  from  our  instructors ; or 
which  ai-e  connected  with  our  own  local  situation.  Nor  does 


224 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


the  xi.niversaUty  of  an  opinion  among  men  ivho  have  received  t 
similar  education,  afford  any  presumption  in  its  favor  ; for  how- 
ever great  the  deference  is,  which  a wise  man  will  always  pay  to 
common  belief,  upon  those  subjects  which  have  employed  the 
unbiased  reason  of  mankind,  he  certainly  owes  it  no  respect,  in 
so  far  as  he  suspects  it  to  be  influenced  by  fashion  or  authority. 
Nothing  can  be  more  just  than  the  observation  of  Fontenelle, 
that  “ the  number  of  those  who  believe  in  a system  ah’eady 
established  in  the  world,  does  not,  in  the  least,  add  to  its  credi- 
bility ; but  that  the  number  of  those  who  doubt  of  it  has  a 
tendency  to  diminish  it.” 

The  same  remarks  lead,  upon  the  other  hand,  to  another  con- 
clusion of  still  greater  importance ; that,  notwithstanding  the 
various  false  opinions  which  are  current  in  the  world,  there  are 
some  truths  which  are  inseparable  from  the  human  understanding, 
and  by  means  of  which,  the  errors  of  education,  in  most  in- 
stances, are  enabled  to  take  hold  of  our  belief. 

A Aveak  mind,  unaccustomed  to  reflection,  and  Avhich  has  pas- 
sively derived  its  most  important  opinions  from  habits  or  from 
authority,  when,  in  consequence  of  a more  enlarged  intercourse 
with  the  AAmrld,  it  finds  that  ideas  Avhich  it  had  been  taught  to 
regard  as  sacred,  are  treated  by  enlightened  and  worthy  men 
with  ridicule,  is  apt  to  lose  its  reverence  for  the  fundamental 
and  eternal  truths  on  which  these  accessory  ideas  are  grafted, 
and  easily  falls  a prey  to  that  skejitical  philosophy  Avhich  teaches, 
that  all  the  opinions,  and  all  the  principles  of  action  by  which 
mankind  are  governed,  may  be  traced  to  the  influence  of  educa- 
tion and  example.  Amidst  the  infinite  variety  of  forms,  ho\\'- 
ever,  which  our  versatile  nature  assumes,  it  cannot  fail  to  strike 
an  attentive  observer,  that  there  are  certain  indelible  features 
common  to  them  all.  In  one  situation,  we  find  good  men 
attached  to  a republican  form  of  government;  in  another,  to  a 
monarchy ; but  in  all  situations,  we  find  them  devoted  to  the 
service  of  their  country  and  of  mankind,  and  disposed  to  regard, 
with  reverence  and  love,  the  most  absurd  and  capricious  institu- 
tions which  custom  has  led  them  to  connect  with  the  order  of 
society.  The  different  appearances,  therefore,  which  the  politi- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


225 


cal  opinions  and  the  political  conduct  of  men  exhibit,  while  they 
demonstrate  to  what  a wonderful  degree  human  nature  may  be 
influenced  by  situation  and  by  early  instruction,  evince  the  exist- 
ence of  some  common  and  original  principles,  which  fit  it  for  the 
political  union,  and  illustrate  the  uniform  operation  of  those 
laws  of  association,  to  which,  in  all  the  stages  of  society,  it  is 
equally  subject. 

These  principles  applicable  to  questions  of  religion  and  moral- 
ity.— Similar  observations  are  applicable,  and,  indeed,  in  a still 
more  striking  degree,  to  the  opinions  of  mankind  on  the  im- 
portant questions  of  religion  and  morality.  The  variety  of 
systems  which  they  have  formed  to  themselves  concerning  these 
subjects,  has  often  excited  the  ridicule  of  the  skeptic  and  the 
libertine ; but  if,  on  the  one  hand,  this  variety  shows  the  folly 
of  bigotry,  and  the  reasonableness  of  mutual  indulgence;  the 
curiosity  which  has  led  men  in  every  situation  to  such  specula- 
tions, and  the  influence  which  their  conclusions,  however  absurd, 
have  had  on  their  character  and  their  happiness,  prove,  no  less 
clearly  on  the  other,  that  there  must  be  some  principles  from 
which  they  all  derive  their  origin ; and  invite  the  philosopher 
to  ascertain  what  are  these  original  and  immutable  laws  of  the 
human  mind. 

“ Examine,”  says  Mr.  Hume,  “ the  religious  principles  which 
have  prevailed  in  the  world.  You  will  scarcely  be  persuaded, 
that  there  are  any  thing  but  sick  men’s  dreams  ; or,  perhaps,  will 
regard  them  more  as  the  playsome  whimseys  of  monkeys  in 
human  shape,  than  the  serious,  positive,  dogmatical  asseverations 
of  a being  who  dignifies  himself  with  the  name  of  rational.” 
— “ To  oppose  the  torrent  of  scholastic  religion  by  such  feeble 
maxims  as  these,  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be 
and  not  to  be ; that  the  whole  is  greater  than  a part ; that  two 
and  three  make  five : is  pretending  to  stop  the  ocean  with  a bul- 
rush.” But  what  is  the  inference  to  which  we  are  led  by  these 
observations  ? Is  it,  to  use  the  words  of  this  ingenious  writer, 
“ that  the  whole  is  a riddle,  an  enigma,  an  inexplicable  mystery ; 
and  that  doubt,  uncertainty,  and  suspense,  appear  the  only  result 
of  our  most  accurate  scrutiny  concerning  this  subject  ? ” Or 


22G 


THE  INFLHENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


should  not  rather  the  melancholy  histories  which  he  has  ex- 
hibited of  the  follies  and  caprices  of  superstition,  direct  our 
attention  to  those  sacred  and  indelible  characters  on  the  human 
mind,  which  all  these  perversions  of  reason  are  unable  to 
obliterate ; like  that  image  of  himself,  which  Phidias  wished  to 
perpetuate,  by  stamping  it  so  deeply  on  the  buckler  of  his 
Minerva ; “ ut  nemo  delere  posset  aut  divellere,  qui  totam  stat- 
uam  non  imminueret ; ” [that  no  one  could  destroy  it  or  take 
it  away,  without  ruining  the  whole  statue.]  In  truth,  the  more 
strange  the  contradictions,  and  the  more  ludicrous  the  ceremo- 
nies, to  which  the  pride  of  human  reason  has  thus  been  recon- 
ciled ; the  sti’onger  is  our  evidence  that  religion  has  a foundation 
in  the  nature  of  man.  When  the  greatest  of  modern  phi- 
losophers declares,  that  “ he  would  rather  believe  all  the  fables 
in  the  Legend,  and  the  Talmud,  and  the  Alcoran,  than  that  this 
universal  frame  is  without  mind ; ” (Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Essays  ;) 
he  has  expressed  the  same  feeling,  which,  in  all  ages  and  nations, 
has  led  good  men,  unaccustomed  to  reasoning,  to  an  implicit  faith 
in  the  creed  of  their  infancy ; — a feeling  which  affords  an  evi- 
dence of  the  existence  of  the  Deity  incomparably  more  striking, 
than  if,  unmixed  with  error  and  undebased  liy  superstition,  this 
most  important  of  all  principles  had  commanded  tlie  universal 
assent  of  mankind.  Where  are  the  other  truths,  in  the  whole 
circle  of  the  sciences,  which  are  so  essential  to  human  happi- 
ness, as  to  procure  an  easy  access,  not  only  for  themselves,  but 
for  whatever  opinions  may  happen  to  be  blended  with  them  ? 
Where  are  the  truths  so  venerable  and  commanding,  as  to  impart 
their  own  sublimity  to  every  trifling  memorial  which  recalls  them 
to  our  remembrance ; to  bestow  solemnity  and  elevation  on  every 
mode  of  expression  by  which  they  are  conveyed ; and  which,  in 
whatever  scene  they  have  habitually  occupied  the  thoughts,  con- 
secrate every  object  which  it  presents  to  our  senses,  and  the 
very  ground  we  have  been  accustomed  to  tread  ? To  attempt 
to  weaken  the  authority  of  such  impressions,  by  a detail  of  the 
endless  variety  of  forms  which  they  derive  from  casual  associa- 
tions, is  surely  an  employment  unsuitable  to  the  dignity  of  phi- 
losophy. To  the  vulgar  it  may  be  amusing,  in  this,  as  in  other 


aHE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


227 


instances,  to  indulge  tlieir  wonder  at  what  is  new  or  uncommon  ; 
but  to  the  philosopher  it  belongs  to  perceive,  under  all  these 
various  disguises,  the  workings  of  the  same  common  nature ; and 
in  the  superstitions  of  Egypt,  no  less  than  in  the  lofty  visions 
of  Plato,  to  recognize  the  existence  of  those  moral  ties  which 
unite  the  heart  of  man  to  the  Author  of  his  being. 

II.  Influence  of  the  association  of  ideas  on  our  judgments  in 
matters  of  taste.  How  taste  is  formed.  — The  very  general 
observations  which  I am  to  make  in  this  Section,  do  not  pre- 
suppose any  particular  theory  concerning  the  nature  of  taste 
It  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose  to  remark,  that  taste  is  not  a 
simple  and  original  faculty,  hut  a power  gradually  formed  hy 
experience  and  observation.  It  implies,  indeed,  as  its  ground- 
work, a certain  degree  of  natural  sensibility  ; but  it  implies  also 
the  exercise  of  the  judgment ; and  is  the  slow  result  of  an  at- 
tentive examination  and  comparison  of  the  agreeable  or  dis- 
agreeable effects  produced  on  the  mind  by  external  objects. 

The  view  which  was  formerly  given  of  the  process  by  which 
the  general  laws  of  the  material  world  are  investigated,  and 
which  I endeavored  to  illustrate  by  the  state  of  medicine  among 
rude  nations,  is  strictly  applicable  to  the  history  of  taste.  That 
certain  objects  are  fitted  to  give  pleasure,  and  others  disgust,  to 
the  mind,  we  know  from  experience  alone ; and  it  is  impossible 
for  us,  by  any  reasoning  a priori,  to  explain /mea  the  pleasure  or 
the  pain  is  produced.  In  the  works  of  nature  we  find,  in  many 
instances,  beauty  and  sublimity  involved  among  circumstances 
which  are  either  indifferent,  or  which  obstruct  the  general 
effect;  aud  it  is  only  by  a train  of  experiments,  that  we  can 
separate  those  circumstances  from  the  rest,  and  ascertain  with 
what  particular  equalities  the  pleasing  effect  is  connected.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  inexperienced  artist,  wffien  he  coqiies  nature, 
will  coj)y  her  servilely,  that  he  may  be  certain  of  securing  the 
pleasing  effect;  and  the  beauties  of  his  performances  will  be 
incumbered  with  a number  of  superfluous  or  of  disagreeable 
concomitants.  Experience  and  observation  alone  can  enable 
him  to  make  this  discrimination ; to  exhibit  the  prmciples  of 
beauty  pure  and  unadulterated,  and  to  form  a creation  of  his 


228 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


own,  more  faultless  than  ever  fell  under  the  observation  of  his 
senses. 

This  analogy  between  the  progress  of  taste  from  rudeness  to 
refinement,  and  the  progress  of  physical  knowledge  from  the 
superstitions  of  a savage  tribe  to  the  investigation  of  the  laws 
of  nature,  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that,  as  in  the  material 
world  there  are  general  facts,  beyond  which  philosophy  is  un- 
able to  proceed ; so,  in  the  constitution  of  man,  there  is  an  in- 
explicable adaptation  of  the  mind  to  the  objects  with  which 
th6se  faculties  are  conversant ; in  consequence  of  which,  these 
objects  are  fitted  to  produce  agreeable  or  disagreeable  emotions. 
In  both  cases,  reasoning  may  be  employed  with  propriety  to 
refer  particular  phenomena  to  general  principles ; but  in  both 
cases,  we  must  at  last  arrive  at  principles  of  which  no  account 
can  be  given,  but  that  such  is  the  wiU  of  our  Maker. 

The  injluence  of  casual  associations  on  taste.  — A great  part, 
too,  of  the  remarks  which  were  made  in  the  last  section  on  the 
origin  of  popular  prejudices,  may  be  applied  to  explain  the 
influence  of  casual  associations  on  taste  ; but  these  remarks  do 
not  so  completely  exhaust  the  subject,  as  to  supersede  the  ne- 
cessity of  further  illustration.  In  matters  of  taste,  the  effects 
which  we  consider  are  produced  on  the  mind  itself ; and  are 
accompanied  either  with  pleasure  or  with  pain.  Hence  the 
tendency  to  casual  association  is  much  stronger  than  it  com- 
monly is,  with  respect  to  physical  events  ; and  when  such  as 
sociations  are  once  formed,  as  they  do  not  lead  to  any  important 
inconvenience,  similar  to  those  which  result  from  jihysical  mis- 
takes, they  are  not  so  likely  to  be  corrected  by  mere  experience, 
unassisted  by  study.  To  this  it  is  owing,  that  the  influence  of 
association  on  our  judgments  concerning  beauty  and  deformity, 
is  still  more  remarkable  than  on  our  speculative  conclusions ; a 
circumstance  which  has  led  some  philosophers  to  suppose,  that 
association  is  sufficient  to  account  for  the  origin  of  these  notions , 
and  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a standard  of  taste,  founded 
on  the  principles  of  the  human  constitution.  But  this  is  un- 
doubtedly pushing  the  theory  a great  deal  too  far.  The  associ- 
ation of  ideas  can  never  account  for  the  origin  of  a new  notion, 


THE  INFLUENCE  OP  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


229 


or  of  a pleasure  essentially  different  from  all  the  others  which 
we  know.  It  may,  indeed,  enable  us  to  conceive  how  a thing, 
inditferent  in  itself,  may  become  a source  of  pleasure,  by  being 
connected  in  the  mind  with  something  else  wliich  is  naturally 
agreeable ; but  it  presupposes,  in  every  instance,  the  existence 
of  those  notions  and  those  feelings  which  it  is  its  province  to 
combine : insomuch  that,  I apprehend,  it  will  be  found,  wherever 
association  produces  a change  in  our  judgments  on  matters  of 
taste,  it  does  so  by  cooperating  with  some  natural  principle  of 
the  mind,  and  implies  the  existence  of  certain  original  sources 
of  pleasure  and  uneasiness. 

Hoiv  fashions  change.  — A mode  of  dress,  which  at  first  ap- 
peared awkward,  acquires,  in  a few  weeks  or  months,  the  ap- 
pearance of  elegance.  By  being  accustomed  to  see  it  worn  by 
those  whom  we  consider  as  models  of  taste,  it  becomes  asso- 
ciated with  the  agreeable  impressions  which  we  receive  from  the 
ease  and  grace  and  refinement  of  their  manners.  When  it 
pleases  by  itself,  the  effect  is  to  be  ascribed,  not  to  the  object 
actually  before  us,  but  to  the  impressions  with  which  it  has 
been  generally  connected,  and  which  it  naturally  recalls  to  the 
mind. 

This  observation  points  out  the  cause  of  the  perpetual  vicis- 
situdes in  dress,  and  in  every  thing  whose  chief  recommendation 
arises  from  fashion.  It  is  evident  that,  as  far  as  the  agreeable 
effect  of  an  ornament  arises  from  association,  the  effect  will 
continue  only  while  it  is  confined  to  the  higher  orders.  When 
it  is  adopted  by  the  multitude,  it  not  only  ceases  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  ideas  of  taste  and  refinement,  but  it  is  associated  with 
ideas  of  affectation,  absurd  imitation,  and  vulgarity.  It  is  ac- 
cordingly laid  aside  by  the  higher  orders,  who  studiously  avoid 
every  circumstance  in  external  appearance  which  is  debased 
by  low  and  common  use ; and  they  are  led  to  exercise  their 
invention  in  the  introduction  of  some  new  peculiarities,  which 
first  become  fashionable,  then  common,  and  last  of  all,  are 
abandoned  as  vulgar. 

It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  after  a certain  period  in 
the  progress  of  society,  the  public  taste  becomes  corrupted  ; and 
20 


230 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


the  different  productions  of  the  fine  arts  begin  to  degenerate 
from  that  simplicity,  which  they  had  attained  in  their  state  of 
greatest  iierfection.  One  reason  of  this  decline  is  suggested  by 
the  foregoing  observations. 

From  the  account  which  has  been  given  of  the  natural  pro- 
gress of  taste,  in  separating  the  genuine  principles  of  beauty 
from  superfluous  and  from  offensive  concomitants,  it  is  evident, 
that  there  is  a limit,  beyond  which  the  love  of  simplicity  cannot 
be  carried.  No  bounds,  indeed,  can  be  set  to  the  creations  of 
genius  ; but  as  this  quality  occurs  seldom  in  an  eminent  degree, 
it  commonly  happens,  that  after  a period  of  great  refinement  of 
taste,  men  begin  to  gratify  their  love  of  variety,  by  adding 
superfluous  circumstances  to  the  finished  models  exhibited  by 
their  predecessors,  or  by  making  other  trifling  alterations  on 
them,  with  a view  merely  of  diversifying  the  effect.  These 
additions  and  alterations,  indifferent  perhaps,  or  even  in  some 
degree  offensive  in  themselves,  acquire  soon  a borrowed  beauty, 
from  the  connection  in  which  we  see  them,  or  from  the  influence 
of  fashion  : the  same  cause  which  at  first  produced  them,  con- 
tinues perpetually  to  increase  their  number ; and  taste  returns 
to  barbarism,  by  almost  the  same  steps  which  conducted  it  to 
perfection. 

The  truth  of  these  remarks  will  appear  still  more  stinking  to 
those  Avho  consider  the  wonderful  effect  which  a writer  of 
splendid  genius,  but  of  incorrect  taste,  has  in  misleading  the 
public  judgment.  The  peculiarities  of  such  an  author  are 
consecrated  by  the  connection  in  which  we  see  them,  and  even 
please,  to  a certain  degree,  when  detached  from  the  excellences 
of  his  composition,  by  recalling  to  us  the  agreeable  impressions 
with  which  they  have  been  formerly  associated.  How  many 
imitations  have  we  seen  of  the  affectations  of  Sterne,  by  men 
who  were  unable  to  copy  his  beauties  ! And  yet  these  imi- 
tations of  his  defects ; of  his  abrupt  manner ; of  his  minute 
specification  of  circumstances  ; and  even  of  his  dashes,  produce, 
at  first,  some  effect  on  readers  of  sensibility,  but  of  uncultivated 
taste,  in  consequence  of  the  exquisite  strokes  of  the  pathetic, 
and  the  singular  vein  of  humor,  with  which  they  are  united  in 
the  original. 


THE  ESELHENCE  OP  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


231 


Two  kinds  of  taste  distinguished.  — From  what  has  been 
said,  it  is  obvious,  that  the  circumstances  which  please  in  the 
objects  of  taste,  are  of  two  kinds : first,  those  which  are  fitted 
to  please  by  nature,  or  by  associations  which  all  mankind  are 
led  to  form  by  their  common  condition ; and,  secondly,  those 
which  please  in  consequence  of  associations  arising  from  local 
and  accidental  circumstances.  Hence,  there  are  two  kinds  of 
taste  ; the  one  enabling  us  to  judge  of  those  beauties  which 
have  a foundation  in  the  human  constitution  ; the  other,  of  such 
objects  as  derive  their  principal  recommendation  from  the 
influence  of  fashion. 

These  two  kinds  of  taste  are  not  always  united  in  the  same 
person ; indeed,  I am  inclined  to  think,  that  they  are  united  but 
rarely.  The  perfection  of  the  one  depends  much  upon  the 
degree  in  which  we  are  able  to  free  the  mind  from  the  influence 
of  casual  associations ; that  of  the  other,  on  the  contrary,  de- 
pends on  a facility- of  association,  which  enables  us  to  fall  in,  at 
once,  with  all  the  turns  of  the  fashion,  and,  as  Shakspeare  ex- 
presses it,  “ to  catch  the  tune  of  the  times.” 

The  influence  rf  association  on  language.  — I shall  endeavor 
to  illustrate  some  of  the  foregoing  remarks,  by  applying  them 
to  the  subject  of  language,  which  afibrds  numberless  instances 
to  exemplify  the  influence  which  the  association  of  ideas  has  on 
our  judgments  in  matters  of  taste. 

In  the  same  manner  in  which  an  article  of  dress  acquired  an 
appearance  of  elegance  or  of  vulgarity  from  the  persons  by 
whom  it  is  habitually  worn ; so  a particular  mode  of  pronuncia- 
tion acquires  an  air  of  fashion  or  of  rusticity,  from  the  persons 
by  whom  it  is  habitually  employed.  The  Scotch  accent  is 
surely  in  itself  as  good  as  the  English,  and  with  a few  excep- 
tions, is  as  agreeable  to  the  ear  ; and  yet  how  offensive  does  it 
appear,  even  to  us,  who  have  been  accustomed  to  hear  it  from 
our  infancy,  when  compared  with  that  which  is  used  by  our 
southern  neighbors ! — No  reason  can  be  given  for  this,  but  that 
■the  capital  of  Scotland  is  now  become  a provincial  town,  and 
Loudon  is  the  seat  of  our  court. 

The  distinction  which  is  to  be  found  in  the  languages  of  all 


232 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


civilized  nations,  between  low  and  polite  modes  of  expression, 
arises  from  similar  causes.  It  is,  indeed,  amusing  to  remark 
the  solicitude  with  which  the  higher  orders,  in  the  monarchies 
of  modern  Europe,  avoid  every  circumstance  in  their  exterior 
appearance  and  manner,  which,  by  the  most  remote  association, 
may,  in  the  minds  of  others,  connect  them  with  the  idea  of  the 
multitude.  Their  whole  dress  and  deportment  and  conversation 
are  studiously  arranged  to  convey  an  imposing  notion  of  their 
consequence ; and  to  recall  to  the  spectator,  by  numberless  slight 
and  apparently  unintentional  hints,  the  agreeable  impressions 
which  are  associated  with  the  advantages  of  fortune. 

To  this  influence  of  association  on  language,  it  is  necessary 
for  every  writer  to  attend  carefully,  who  wishes  to  express  him- 
self with  elegance.  For  the  attainment  of  correctness  and 
jjurity  in  the  use  of  words,  the  rules  of  grammarians  and  of 
critics  may  be  a sufficient  guide ; but  it  is  not  in  the  works  of 
this  class  of  authors,  that  the  liigher  beauties  of  style  are  to  be 
studied.  As  the  air  and  manner  of  a gentleman  can  be  acquired 
only  by  living  habitually  in  the  best  society,  so  grace  in  com- 
position must  be  attained  by  an  habitual  acquaintance  with 
classical  writers.  It  is  indeed  necessary  for  our  information,  that 
we  should  peruse  occasionally  many  books  which  have  no  merit 
in  point  of  expression ; but  I believe  it  to  be  extremely  useful 
to  all  literary  men,  to  counteract  the  effect  of  this  miscellaneous 
reading,  by  maintaining  a constant  and  familiar  acquaintance 
with  a few  of  the  most  faultless  models  which  the  language 
affords.  For  want  of  some  standard  of  this  sort,  we  frequently 
see  an  author’s  taste  in  writing  alter  much  to  the  worse  in  the 
course  of  his  life ; and  his  later  productions  fall  below  the  level 
of  his  early  essays.  D’Alembert  tells  us,  that  Voltaire  had 
always  lying  on  his  table  the  Petit  Careme  of  Massillon,  and 
the  tragedies  of  Racine ; the  former  to  fix  his  taste  in  prose 
composition,  and  the  latter  in  poetry. 

In  avoiding,  however,  expressions  which  are  debased  by  vul- 
gar use,  there  is  a danger  of  running  into  the  other  extreme  in 
quest  of  fashionable  words  and  phrases.  Such  an  affectation 
may,  for  a few  years,  gratify  the  vanity  of  an  author,  by  giving 


THE  INFLUENCE  OP  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


233 


Lim  the  air  of  a man  of  the  world ; but  the  reputation  it  bestows 
is  of  a very  transitory  nature.  The  works  which  continue  to 
please  from  age  to  age  are  written  with  perfect  simplicity,  while 
those  which  captivate  the  multitude  by  a display  of  meretricious 
oi’naments,  if,  by  chance,  they  should  survive  the  fashions  to 
which  they  are  accommodated,  remain  only  to  furnish  a subject 
of  ridicule  to  posterity.  The  portrait  of  a beautiful  woman  in 
the  fashionable  dress  of  the  day  may  please  at  the  moment  it  is 
painted,  nay,  may  perhaps  please  more  than  in  any  that  the 
fancy  of  the  artist  could  have  suggested ; but  it  is  only  in  the 
plainest  and  simplest  drapery  that  the  most  perfect  form  can  be 
transmitted  with  advantage  to  future  times. 

The  exceptions  which  the  history  of  literature  seems  to  fur- 
nish to  these  observations  are  only  apparent.  That,  in  the 
works  of  our  best  authors  there  are  many  beauties  which  have 
long  and  generally  been  admired,  and  which  yet  owe  their  whole 
effect  to  association,  cannot  be  disputed  ; but,  in  such  cases,  it 
will  always  be  found  that  the  associations  which  are  the  founda- 
tion of  our  pleasures,  have,  in  consequence  of  some  peculiar 
combination  of  circumstances,  been  more  widely  diffused,  and 
more  permanently  established  among  mankind,  than  those  which 
date  their  origin  from  the  caprices  of  our  own  age  are  ever 
likely  to  be.  An  admiration  for  the  classical  remains  of  an- 
tiquity is,  at  present,  not  less  general  in  Europe  than  the  advan- 
tages of  a liberal  education ; and  such  is  the  effect  of  this 
admiration,  that  there  are  certain  caprices  of  taste  from  which 
no  man  who  is  well  educated  is  entirely  free.  A composition  in 
a modern  language,  which  should  sometimes  depart  from  the 
ordinary  modes  of  expression,  from  an  affectation  of  the  idioms 
which  are  consecrated  in  the  classics,  would  please  a very  wide 
circle  of  readers,  in  consequence  of  the  prevalence  of  classical 
associations ; and  therefore,  such  affectations,  however  absurd 
when  carried  to  a degree  of  singularity,  are  of  a far  superior 
class  to  those  which  are  adapted  to  the  fashions  of  the  day. 
But  still  the  general  principle  holds  true,  that  whatever  beauties 
derive  their  original  merely  from  casual  association,  must  appear 
capricious  to  those  to  whom  the  association  does  not  extend ; and 
2U* 


234 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


that  the  simplest  style  is  that  which  continues  longest  to  please, 
and  which  pleases  most  universally.  In  the  writings  of  Mr. 
Harris,  there  is  a certain  classical  air  which  will  always  have 
many  admirers,  while  ancient  learning  continues  to  be  cultivated, 
but  which,  to  a mere  English  reader,  appears  somewhat  un- 
natural and  ungraceful,  when  compared  with  the  composition  of 
Swift  or  of  Addison. 

Injliience  of  classical  associations  on  the  arts.  — The  analogy 
of  the  arts  of  statuary  and  painting  may  be  of  use  in  illustrating 
these  remarks.  The  influence  of  ancient  times  has  extended 
to  these,  as  well  as  to  the  art  of  writing ; and,  in  this  case,  no 
less  than  in  the  other,  the  transcendent  power  of  genius  has 
established  a propriety  of  choice  in  matters  of  indifference,  and 
has,  perhaps,  consecrated  in  the  opinion  of  mankind  some  of  its 
own  caj^rices. 

“ Many  of  the  ornaments  of  art,”  says  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds, 
“ those  at  least  for  which  no  reason  can  be  given,  ai’e  transmitted 
to  us,  are  adopted,  and  acquire  their  consequence  from  the 
company  in  which  we  have  been  used  to  see  them.  As  Greece 
and  Rome  are  the  fountains  from  whence  have  flowed  all  kinds 
of  excellence,  to  that  veneration  which  they  have  a right  to 
claim  for  the  pleasure  and  knowledge  which  they  have  afforded 
us,  we  voluntarily  add  our  approbation  of  every  ornament  and 
every  custom  that  belonged  to  them,  even  to  the  fashion  of  their 
dress.  For  it  may  be  observed,  that,  not  satisfied  with  them  in 
their  own  place,  we  make  no  difficulty  of  dressing  statues  of 
modern  heroes  or  senators  in  the  fashion  of  the  Roman  armor, 
or  peaceful  robe,  and  even  go  so  far  as  hardly  to  bear  a statue 
in  any  other  drapery. 

“ The  figures  of  the  great  men  of  those  nations  have  come 
down  to  us  in  sculpture.  In  sculpture  remain  almost  all  the 
excellent  specimens  of  ancient  art.  We  have  so  far  associated 
personal  dignity  to  the  persons  thus  represented,  and  the  truth 
of  art  to  their  manner  of  representation,  that  it  is  not  in  our 
power  any  longer  to  separate  them.  This  is  not  so  in  painting, 
because,  having  no  excellent  ancient  portraits,  that  connection 
was  never  formed.  Indeed,  we  could  no  more  venture  to  paint 


THE  rNFLHENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


235 


a general  officer  in  a Roman  military  habit,  than  we  could  make 
a statue  in  the  present  uniform.  But  since  we  have  no  ancient 
portraits  to  show  how  ready  we  are  to  adopt  those  kind  of  preju- 
dices, we  make  the  best  authority  among  the  moderns  serve  the 
same  purpose.  The  great  variety  of  excellent  portraits  with 
which  Vandyke  has  enriched  this  nation,  we  are  not  content  to 
admire  for  their  real  excellence,  but  extend  our  approbation  even 
to  the  dress  which  happened  to  be  the  fashion  of  that  age.  By 
this  means,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  very  ordinary  pictures 
acquired  something  of  the  air  and  effect  of  the  works  of  Van- 
dyke, and  appeared  therefore,  at  first  sight,  better  pictures  than 
they  really  were.  They  appeared  so,  however,  to  those  only 
who  had  the  means  of  making  this  association.” 

The  language  of  poetry  affected  hy  casual  associations.  — The 
influence  of  association  on  our  notions  concerning  language,  is 
still  more  strongly  exemplified  in  poetry  than  in  prose.  As  it 
is  one  great  object  of  the  poet,  in  his  serious  productions,  to 
elevate  the  imagination  of  his  readers  above  the  grossness  of 
sensible  objects,  and  the  vulgarity  of  common  life,  it  becomes 
peculiarly  necessary  for  him  to  reject  the  use  of  all  words  and 
phrases  which  are  trivial  and  hackneyed.  Among  those  which 
are  equally  pure  and  equally  perspicuous,  he,  in  general,  finds 
it  expedient  to  adopt  that  which  is  the  least  common.  Milton 
prefei’s  the  words  Rhene  and  Danaw  to  the  more  common  words 
Rhine  and  Danube : — ■ 

“ A multitude,  like  which  the  populous  North 
Pour’d  never  from  his  frozen  loins,  to  pass 
Rhene  or  the  Danaw.” 

In  the  following  line, 

“ Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme,” 

how  much  more  suitable  to  the  poetical  style  does  the  expression 
appear,  than  if  the  author  had  said, 

“ Things  unattempted  j'et  in  prose  or  verse.” 

In  another  passage,  where,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  he  has  made 


236 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


use  of  the  last  phrase,  he  adds  an  epithet,  to  remove  it  a little 
from  the  familiarity  of  ordinary  discourse. 

“ in  prose  or  numerous  vei'se.” 

Peculianties  of  poetical  diction.  — In  consequence  of  this  cir* 
cumstance,  tliere  arises  gradually  in  every  language  a poetical 
diction,  which  differs  widely  from  the  common  diction  of  prose. 
It  is  much  less  subject  to  the  vicissitudes  of  fashion,  than  the 
polite  modes  of  expression  in  familiar  conversation;  because, 
when  it  has  once  been  adopted  by  the  poet,  it  is  avoided  by 
good  prose  writers,  as  being  too  elevated  for  that  species  of  com- 
position. It  may  therefore  retain  its  charm,  as  long  as  the  lan- 
guage exists ; nay,  the  charm  may  increase,  as  the  language 
grows  older. 

Indeed,  the  charm  of  poetical  diction  must  increase  to  a cer- 
tain degree,  as  polite  literature  advances.  For  when  once  a set 
of  words  has  been  consecrated  to  poetry,  the  very  sound  of 
them,  independently  of  tlie  ideas  they  convey,  awakens,  every 
time  we  hear  it,  the  agreeable  impressions  which  were  connected 
with  it  when  we  met  with  them  in  the  performances  of  our  favorite 
authors.  Even  when  strung  together  in  sentences  which  con- 
vey no  meaning,  they  produce  some  effect  on  the  mind  of  a 
reader  of  sensibility  ; an  effect,  at  least,  extremely  different  from 
that  of  an  unmeaning  sentence  in  prose. 

Languages  differ  from  each  other  widely  in  the  copiousness 
of  their  poetical  diction.  Our  own  possesses,  in  this  respect, 
important  advantages  over  the  French  ; not  that  in  this  language 
there  are  no  words  appropriated  to  poetry,  but  because  their 
number  is,  comparatively  speaking,  extremely  limited. 

The  scantiness  of  the  Fi-ench  poetical  diction  is,  probably, 
attended  with  the  less  inconvenience,  that  the  phrases  which 
occur  in  good  j>rose  writing  are  less  degraded  by  vulgar  appli- 
cation than  in  English,  in  consequence  of  the  line  being  more 
distinctly  and  more  strongly  drawn  between  polite  and  low  ex- 
pressions in  that  language  than  in  ours.  Our  poets,  indeed,  by 
having  a language  appropriated  to  their  own  purposes,  not  only 


THE  rNFLTJENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


237 


can  preserve  dignity  of  expression,  but  can  connect  with  the 
perusal  of  their  compositions,  the  pleasing  impressions  which 
have  been  produced  by  those  of  their  predecessors.  And  hence, 
in  the  higher  sorts  of  poetry,  where  their  object  is  to  kindle,  as 
much  as  possible,  the  enthusiasm  of  their  readers,  they  not  only 
avoid,  studiously,  all  expressions  which  are  vulgar,  but  all  such 
as  are  borrowed  from  fashionable  life.  This  certainly  cannot 
be  done  in  an  equal  degree  by  a poet  who  writes  in  the  French 
language. 

In  English,  the  poetical  diction  is  so  extremely  copious,  that 
it  is  liable  to  be  abused ; as  it  puts  it  in  the  power  of  authors  of 
no  genius,  merely  by  ringing  changes  on  the  poetical  vocabu- 
lary, to  give  a certain  degree  of  currency  to  the  most  unmean- 
ing compositions. , In  Pope’s  Song  hy  a Person  of  Quality,  the 
incoherence  of  ideas  is  scarcely  greater  than  what  is  to  be  found 
in  some  admired  passages  of  our  fashionable  poetry. 

Nor  is  it  merely  by  a difference  of  words,  that  the  language 
of  poetry  is  distinguished  from  that  of  prose.  When  a poetical 
arrangement  of  words  has  once  been  established  by  authors  of 
reputation,  the  most  common  expressions,  by  being  presented  in 
this  consecrated  order,  may  serve  to  excite  poetical  associations. 

On  the  other  hand,  nothing  more  completely  destroys  the 
charm  of  poetry,  than  a string  of  words  which  the  custom  of 
ordinary  discourse  has  arranged  in  so  invariable  an  order,  that 
the  whole  phrase  may  be  anticijiated  from  hearing  its  com- 
mencement. A single  word  frequently  strikes  us  as  flat  and 
prosaic,  in  consequence  of  its  familiarity ; but  two  such  words, 
coupled  together  in  the  order  of  conversation,  can  scarcely  be 
introduced  into  serious  poetry  without  appearing  ludicrous. 

No  poet  in  our  language  has  shown  so  strikingly  as  Milton, 
the  wonderful  elevation  which  style  may  derive  from  an 
arrangement  of  words,  which,  while  it  is  perfectly  intelligible, 
departs  widely  from  that  to  which  we  are  in  general  accustomed. 
Many  of  his  most  sublime  periods,  when  the  order  of  the  words 
is  altered,  are  reduced  nearly  to  the  level  of  prose. 

To  copy  tills  artifice  with  success  is  a much  more  difficult 
attainment  than  is  commonly  imagined:  and,  of  consequence, 


238  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


when  it  is  acquired,  it  secures  an  author,  to  a great  degree, 
from  that  crowd  of  imitators  who  spoil  the  effect  of  whatever 
is  not  beyond  their  reach.  To  the  poet  who  uses  blank  verse, 
it  is  an  acquisition  of  still  more  essential  consequence  than  to 
him  who  expresses  himself  in  rhyme ; for  the  more  that  the 
structure  of  the  verse  approaches  to  prose,  the  more  it  is  neces- 
sary to  give  novelty  and  dignity  to  the  composition.  And  ac- 
cordingly, among  our  magazine  poets,  ten  thousand  catch  the 
structure  of  Pope’s  versification,  for  one  who  approaches  to  the 
manner  of  Milton  or  of  Thomson. 

The  facility,  however,  of  this  imitation,  like  every  other,  in- 
creases with  the  number  of  those  who  have  studied  it  with  suc- 
cess ; for  the  more  numerous  the  authors  who  have  employed 
their  genius  in  any  one  direction,  the  more  copious  are  the  j 
materials  out  of  which  mediocrity  may  select  and  combine,  so 
as  to  escape  the  charge  of  plagiarism.  And,  in  fact,  in  our  own 
language,  this,  as  well  as  the  other  great  resource  of  poetical  | 
expression,  the  employment  of  appropriated  words,  has  had  its 
effects  so  much  impaired  by  the  abuse  which  has  been  made  of 
it,  that  a few  of  our  best  poets  of  late  have  endeavored  to  i 

strike  out  a new  path  for  themselves,  by  resting  the  elevation  ij 

for  their  composition  chiefly  on  a singular,  and,  to  an  ordinary  j| 

writer,  an  unattainable,  union  of  harmonious  versification  with  | 

a natural  arrangement  of  words  and  a simple  elegance  of  ex-  1 

jiression.  It  is  this  union  which  seems  to  form  the  distinguish-  j 

ing  charm  of  the  poetry  of  Goldsmith.  il 

From  the  remarks  which  have  been  made  on  the  influence  of  | 

the  association  of  ideas  on  our  judgments  in  matters  of  taste,  it  I 

is  obvious  how  much  the  opinions  of  a nation  with  respect  to  j 

merit  in  the  fine  arts,  are  likely  to  be  influenced  by  the  form  of  i 

their  government,  and  the  state  of  their  manners.  Voltaire,  in  j 

his  discourse  pronounced  at  his  reception  into  the  French  ^ 

academy,  gives  several  reasons  why  the  poets  of  that  country  f 

have  not  succeeded  in  describing  rural  scenes  and  employments. 

The  principal  one  is,  the  ideas  of  meanness,  and  poverty,  and  !| 
wretchedness,  which  the  French  are  accustomed  to  associate 
with  the  profession  of  husbandry.  The  same  thing  is  alluded 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


238 


lo  by  the  Abbe  de  Lille,  in  the  preliminary  discourse  prefixed 
to  liis  translation  of  the  Georgies.  “ A translation,”  says  he, 
“ of  this  poem,  if  it  had  been  undertaken  by  an  author  of  genius, 
would  have  been  better  calculated  than  any  other  work,  for  add- 
ing to  the  riches  of  our  language.  A version  of  the  iEneid  itself, 
however  well  executed,  would,  in  this  respect  be  of  less  utility  , 
inasmuch  as  the  genius  of  our  tongue  accommodates  itself  more 
easily  to  the  description  of  heroic  achievements,  than  to  the 
details  of  natural  phenomena,  and  of  the  operations  of  hus- 
bandry. To  force  it  to  express  these  with  suitable  dignity, 
would  have  been  a real  conquest  over  that  false  delicacy,  which 
it  has  contracted  from  our  unfortunate  prejudices.” 

How  different  must  have  been  the  emotions  with  which  this 
divine  performance  of  Virgil  was  read  by  an  ancient  Roman, 
while  he  recollected  that  period  in  the  history  of  his  country, 
when  dictators’ were  called  from  the  plough  to  the  defence  of 
the  state,  and  after  having  led  monarchs  in  triumph,  returned 
again  to  the  same  happy  and  independent  occupation.  A state 
of  manners  to  .which  a Roman  author  of  a later  age  looked 
back  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  he  ascribes,  by  a bold,  poetical 
figure,  the  flourishing  state  of  agriculture  under  the  republic,  to 
the  grateful  returns  which  the  earth  then  made  to  the  illustrious 
hands  by  which  she  was  cultivated.  “ Gaudente  terra  vomere 
laureate,  et  triumphali  aratore.”  [The  land  rejoicing  because 
the  plough  is  wreathed  with  laurel,  and  the  husbandman  has 
received  the  honors  of  a triumph.]  (Plin.  Nat.  Hist,  xviii.  4.) 

III.  Of  the  influence  of  association  on  our  active  principles, 
and  on  our  moral  judgments.  — In  order  to  illustrate  a little  furtlier 
the  influence  of  the  association  of  ideas  on  the  human  mind,  I 
shall  add  a few  remarks  on  some  of  its  effects  on  our  active 
and  moral  principles.  In  stating  these  remarks,  I shall  en- 
deavor to  avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  every  occasion  of  contro- 
versy, by  confining  myself  to  such  general  views  of  the  subject, 
as  do  not  presuppose  any  particular  enumeration  of  our  original 
principles  of  action,  or  any  particular  system  concerning  the 
nature  of  the  moral  faculty.  If  my  health  and  leisure  enable 
me  to  carry  my  plans  into  execution,  I propose,  in  the  sequel  of 


240 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


this  work,  to  resume  these  inquiries,  and  to  examine  the  various 
opinions  to  which  they  have  given  rise. 

The  manner  in  which  the  association  of  ideas  operates  in 
producing  new  principles  of  action,  has  been  explained  very 
distinctly  by  different  writers.  Whatever  conduces  to  the 
gratification  of  any  natural  appetite,  or  any  natural  desire,  is 
itself  desired  on  account  of  the  end  to  which  it  is  subservient ; 
and  by  being  thus  habitually  associated  in  our  apprehension 
with  agreeable  objects,  it  frequently  comes,  in  process  of  time,  to 
be  regarded  as  valuable  in  itself,  independently  of  its  utility. 
It  is  thus  that  wealth  becomes,  with  many  an  ultimate  object  of 
pursuit;  although,  at  first,  it  is  undoubtedly  valjued  merely  on 
account  of  its  subserviency  to  the  attainment  of  other  objects.  In 
like  manner,  men  are  led  to  desire  dress,  equipage,  retinue, 
furniture,  on  account  of  the  estimation  in  which  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  held  by  the  public.  Such  desires  are  called  by  Dr. 
Hutcheson,  (see  his  Essay  on  the  Nature  and  Conduct  of  the 
Passions,)  secontfary  desires ; and  their  origin  is  explained  by 
him  in  the  way  in  which  I have  mentioned.  “ Since  we  are 
capable,”  says  he,  “ of  reflection,  memory,  observation,  and 
reasoning  about  the  distant  tendencies  of  objects  and  actions, 
and  not  confined  to  things  present,  there  must  arise,  in  conse- 
quence of  our  original  desires,  secondary  desii’es  of  every  thing 
imagined  useful  to  gratify  any  of  the  primary  desires  ; and  that 
with  strength  jiroportioned  to  the  several  original  desires,  and 
imagined  usefulness  or  necessity  of  the  advantageous  object.” 
“ Thus,”  he  continues,  “ as  soon  as  we  come  to  apprehend  the 
use  of  wealth  or  power  to  gratify  any  of  our  original  desires, 
we  must  also  desire  them  ; and  hence  arises  the  universality  of 
these  desires  of  wealth  and  power,  since  they  are  the  means  of 
gratifying  all  other  desires.”  The  only  thing  that  appears  to 
me  exceptionable  in  the  foregoing  passage  is,  that  the  author 
classes  the  desire  of  power  with  that  of  wealth ; wliereas  I 
apprehend  it  to  be  clear,  (for  reasons  which  I shall  state  in  an- 
other part  of  this  work,)  that  the  former  is  a primary  desire, 
and  the  latter  a secondary  one. 

How  our  moral  judgments  are  perverted.  — Our  moral  judg- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


241 


ments,  too,  may  be  modified,  and  even  perverted,  to  a certain 
degree,  in  consequence  of  the  operation  of  the  same  principle 
In  the  same  manner  in  which  a person  who  is  regarded  as  a 
model  of  taste  may  introduce,  by  his  example,  an  absurd  or 
fantastical  dress  ; so  a man  of  splendid  virtues  may  attract 
some  esteem  also  to  his  imperfections ; and,  if  placed  in  a con- 
spicuous situation,  may  render  his  vices  and  follies  objects  of 
general  imitation  among  the  multitude. 

“ In  the  reign  of  Charles  II.”  says  Mr.  Smith,  {Theory  of 
Moral  Sentiments,)  “ a degree  of  licentiousness  was  deemed  the 
characteristic  of  a liberal  education.  It  was  connected,  accord- 
ing to  the  notions  of  those  times,  with  generosity,  sincerity, 
magnanimity,  loyalty  ; and  proved  that  the  person  who  acted  in 
this  manner  was  a gentleman,  and  not  a puritan.  Severity  of 
manners  and  regularity  of  conduct,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
altogether  unfashionable,  and  were  connected,  in  the  imagin- 
ation of  that  age,  with  cant,  cunning,  hypocrisy,  and  low  man- 
ners. To  superficial  minds,  the  vices  of  the  great  seem  at  al 
times  agreeable.  They  connect  them,  not  only  with  the  splendor 
of  fortune,  but  with  many  superior  virtues  which  they  ascribe 
to  their  superiors ; with  the  spirit  of  freedom  and  indepen- 
dency; with  frankness,  generosity,  humanity,  and  politeness. 
The  virtues  of  the  inferior  ranks  of  people,  on  the  contrary, 
their  parsimonious  frugality,  their  painful  industry,  and  rigid  ad- 
herence to  rules,  seem  to  them  mean  and  disagreeable.  Tliey 
connect  them  both  with  the  meanness  of  the  station  to  which 
these  qualities  commonly  belong,  and  with  many  great  vices 
which  they  suppose  usually  accompany  them  ; such  as  an  abject, 
cowardly,  ill-natured,  lying,  pilfering  disposition.” 

The  attempt  to  resolve  all  our  affections  and  the  moral  sense 
into  the  association  of  ideas.  — The  theory  which,  in  the  fore- 
going passages  from  Hutcheson  and  Smith,  is  employed  so 
justly  and  philosophically  to  explain  the  origin  of  our  secondary 
desires,  and  to  account  for  some  perversions  of  our  moral  judg- 
ments, has  been  thought  sufficient,  by  some  later  writers,  to  ac- 
count for  the  origin  of  all  our  active  principles  without  excep- 
tion. The  first  of  these  attempts  to  extend  so  very  far  the 

21 


242 


THE  raFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


application  of  the  doctrine  of  Association  was  made  by  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Gay,  in  a dissertation  “ concerning  the  funda- 
mental Principle  of  Virtue,”  which  is  prefixed  by  Dr.  Law  to 
his  translation  of  Archbishop  King’s  essay  “ on  the  Origin  of 
Evil.”  In  this  dissertation,  the  author  endeavors  to  show, 
“ that  our  approbation  of  morality,  and  all  affections  whatsoever, 
ai’e  finally  resolvable  into  reason,  pointing  out  private  happiness, 
and  are  conversant  only  about  things  apprehended  to  he  means 
tending  to  this  end  ; and  that,  wherever  this  end  is  not  perceived, 
they  are  to  be  accounted  for  from  the  association  of  ideas,  and 
may  properly  be  called  habits.”  The  same  jirniciples  have 
been  since  jmshed  to  a much  greater  length  by  Dr.  Hartley, 
whose  system  (as  he  himself  informs  us)  took  rise  from  his 
accidentally  hearing  it  mentioned  as  an  opinion  of  Mr.  Gay, 
“ that  the  association  of  ideas  was  sufficient  to  account  for  all 
our  intellectual  pleasures  and  pains.”* 

It  must,  I think,  in  justice,  be  acknowledged,  that  this  theory, 
concerning  the  origin  of  our  affections  and  of  the  moral  sense, 
is  a most  ingenious  refinement  upon  the  selfish  system,  as  it  was 
formerly  taught ; and  that,  by  means  of  it,  the  force  of  many 
of  the  common  reasonings  against  that  system  is  eluded.  Among 
these  reasonings,  particular  stress  has  always  been  laid  on  the  in- 
stantaneoiisness  with  which  our  affections  operate,  and  the  moral 
sense  approves  or  condemns ; and  on  our  total  want  of  conscious- 
ness, in  such  cases,  of  any  reference  to  our  own  happiness.  The 
modern  advocates  for  the  selfish  system  admit  the  fact  to  be  as 
it  is  stated  by  their  opponents  ; and  grant,  that  after  the  moral 
sense  and  our  various  affections  are  formed,  their  exercise,  in 
particular  cases,  may  become  completely  disinterested ; but  still 
they  contend,  that  it  is  upon  a.  regard  to  our  own  happiness  that 
all  these  principles  are  originally  grafted.  The  analogy  of 


* Mr.  Hume,  too,  who  in  my  opinion  has  c.an'ied  this  principle  of 
the  association  of  ideas  a great  deal  too  far,  has  compared  the  universality 
of  its  applications  in  tlie  pliilosoplp'  of  mind,  to  that  of  the  principle  of 
attraction  in  physics.  “ Here,”  says  he,  ‘‘  is  a kind  of  attraction,  which 
in  the  mental  world  will  be  found  to  have  as  extraordinary  effects  as  in 
the  natural,  and  to  show  itself  in  as  many  and  as  various  forms.” 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS.  243 


avarice  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  scope  of  this  theory  It 
cannot  be  doubted  that  this  principle  of  action  is  artificial.  It 
is  on  account  of  the  enjoyments  which  it  enables  us  to  pux-chase, 
that  money  is  originally  desired ; and  yet,  in  process  of  time,  by 
means  of  the  agreeable  impressions  which  are  associated  with 
it,  it  comes  to  be  desired  for  its  own  sake  ; and  even  continues 
to  be  an  object  of  our  pursuit,  long  after  we  have  lost  all  relish 
for  those  enjoyments  which  it  enables  us  to  command. 

Without  meaning  to  engage  in  any  controversy  on  the  subject, 
I shall  content  myself  with  observing,  in  general,  that  tliere 
must  be  some  limit,  beyond  which  the  theory  of  association  cannot 
possibly  be  carried ; for  the  explanation  which  it  gives,  of  the 
formation  of  new  principles  of  action,  proceeds  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  there  are  other  principles  previously  existing  in  the 
mind.  The  great  question  then  is,  when  we  are  arrived  at  this 
limit,  or,  in  other  words,  when  we  are  arrived  at  the  simple  and 
original  laws  of  our  constitution. 

Number  of  original  principles  in  the  mind.  — In  conducting 
this  inquiry,  philosophers  have  been  apt  to  go  into  extremes. 
Lord  Kaimes,  and  some  other  authors,  have  been  censured,  and 
perhaps  justly,  for  a disposition  to  multiply  original  principles 
to  an  unnecessary  degree.  It  may  be  questioned,  whether  Dr. 
Hartley  and  his  followers  have  not  sometimes  been  misled  by 
too  eager  a desire  of  abridging  their  number. 

Of  these  two  errors,  the  former  is  the  least  common,  and  the 
least  dangerous.  It  is  the  least  common,  because  it  is  not  so 
flattering  as  the  other  to  the  vanity  of  a theorist ; and  it  is  the 
least  dangerous,  because  it  has  no  tendency,  like  the  other,  to 
give  rise  to  a suppression  or  to  a misrepresentation  of  facts ; or 
to  retard  the  progress  of  the  science,  by  bestowing  upon  it  an 
appearance  of  systematical  jierfection,  to  which,  in  its  present 
state,  it  is  not  entitled. 

Abstracting,  however,  from  these  inconveniences,  which  must 
always  result  from  a precipitate  reference  of  phenomena  to 
general  principles,  it  does  not  seem  to  me,  that  the  theory  in 
question  has  any  tendency  to  weaken  the  foundation  of  morals. 
It  has,  indeed,  some  tendency,  in  common  with  the  philosophy 


244 


THE  INPLUElSrCE  OP  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


of  Hobbes  and  of  Maiideville,  to  degrade  the  dignity  of  human 
nature ; but  it  leads  to  no  skeptical  conclusions  concerning  the 
rule  of  life.  For  although  we  wrnre  to  grant,  that  all  our  prin- 
ciples of  action  are  acquired ; so  striking  a difference  among 
them  must  still  be  admitted,  as  is  sufficient  to  distinguish  clearly 
those  universal  laws  which  were  intended  to  regulate  human 
conduct,  from  the  local  habits  Avhich  are  formed  by  education 
and  fashion.  It  must  still  be  admitted,  that,  while  some  active 
principles  are  confined  to  particular  individuals,  or  to  particular 
tribes  of  men,  there  are  others,  which,  arising  from  circumstances 
in  which  all  the  situations  of  mankind  must  agree,  are  common 
to  the  whole  species.  Such  active  principles  as  fall  under  this 
last  description,  at  whatever  period  of  life  they  may  appear,  are 
to  be  regarded  as  a part  of  human  nature,  no  less  than  the  in- 
stinct of  suction ; in  the  same  manner  as  the  acquii-ed  perception 
of  distance  by  the  eye,  is  to  be  ranked  among  the  perceptive 
powers  of  man,  no  less  than  the  original  perceptions  of  any  of 
our  other  senses. 

Leaving,  therefore,  the  question  concerning  the  origin  of  our 
active  principles  and  of  the  moral  faculty,  to  be  the  subject  of 
future  discussion,  I shall  conclude  this  Section  with  a few 
remarks  of  a more  practical  nature. 

Opinion  of  the  relative  value  of  different  pursuits.  — It  has 
been  shown  by  different  writers,  how  much  of  the  beauty  and 
sublimity  of  material  objects  arise  from  the  ideas  and  feel- 
ings which  we  have  been  taught  to  associate  with  them.  The 
impression  produced  on  the  external  senses  of  a poet  by  the 
most  striking  scene  in  nature,  is  precisely  the  same  with  what  is 
produced  on  the  senses  of  a peasant  or  a tradesman ; yet  how 
different  is  the  degree  of  pleasure  resulting  from  this  impres- 
sion ! A great  part  of  this  difference  is  undoubtedly  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  ideas  and  feelings  which  the  habitual  studies  and 
amusements  of  the  poet  have  associated  with  his  organical  per- 
ceptions. 

A similar  observation  may  be  applied  to  all  the  various  objects 
of  our  pursuit  in  life.  Hardly  any  one  of  them  is  appreciated 
by  any  two  men  in  the  same  manner ; and  frequently,  what  one 


THE  LNFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS.  245 


man  considers  as  essential  to  his  happiness  is  regarded  ivith 
indifference  or  dislike  by  another.  Of  these  differences  of 
opinion  much  is,  no  doubt,  to  be  ascribed  to  a diversity  of  con- 
stitution, which  renders  a particular  employment  of  the  intellec- 
tual or  active  powers  agreeable  to  one  man  which  is  not  equally 
so  to  another.  But  much  is  also  to  be  ascribed  to  the  effect  of 
association ; which,  prior  to  any  experience  of  human  life,  con- 
nects pleasing  ideas  and  pleasing  feelings  with  different  objects, 
in  the  minds  of  different  persons. 

In  consequence  of  these  associations,  every  man  appears  to 
his  neighbor  to  pursue  the  objects  of  his  wishes  with  a zeal  dis- 
proportioned  to  its  intrinsic  value ; and  the  philosopher  (whose 
principal  enjoyment  arises  from  speculation)  is  frequently  apt  to 
smile  at  the  ardor  with  which  the  active  part  of  mankind  pur- 
sue what  appear  to  him  to  be  mere  shadows.  This  view  of 
human  affairs  some  writers  have  carried  so  fS.v,  as  to  represent 
life  as  a scene  of  mere  illusions,  where  the  mind  refers  to  the 
objects  around  it,  a coloring  which  exists  only  in  itself ; and 
where,  as  the  poet  expresses  it, 

“ Opinion  gilds  with  vaiying  rays 

Those  painted  clouds  which  beautify  our  days.’' 


It  may  be  questioned,  if  these  representations  of  human  hfe 
be  useful  or  just.  That  the  casual  associations  which  the  mind 
foi’ms  in  childhood  and  in  early  youth,  are  frequently  a source 
of  inconvenience  and  of  misconduct,  is  sufficiently  obvioug  ; but 
that  this  tendency  of  our  nature  increases,  on  thj^l^lq,^jhe 
sum  of  human  enjoyment,  appears  to  me  to 
and  the  instances  in  which  it  misleads  us  fromrpuf,*dut5*mid  our 
happiness,  only  jjrove  to  what  important  endi^^^m^bt;.b,^,sub-^^ 
servient  if  it  were  kept  under  proper 

Nor  do  these  representations  of  life  (admitf'“'^‘'^"-’‘‘“'*^ 
full  extent)  justify  the  practical  inferences  . 
often  deduced  from  them  with  respect  to  the  vanlt;^-^*OTr--pur- 
suits.  In  every  case,  indeed,  in  which  om’  enjoyment  depends 
upon  association,  it  may  be  said,  in  one  sense,  that  it  arises 
from  the  mind  itself ; but  it  does  not,  therefore,  follow,  that  the 
21* 


246 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


external  object  which  custom  has  rendered  the  cause  or  the 
occasion  of  agreeable  emotions,  is  indifferent  to  our  happiness. 
The  effect  which  the  beauties  of  nature  produce  on  the  mind  of 
the  poet  is  wonderfully  heightened  by  association  ; but  his  enjoy- 
ment is  not  on  that  account  the  less  exquisite ; nor  are  the  objects 
of  his  admii’ation  of  the  less  value  to  his  happiness,  that  they  de- 
rive their  principal  charms  from  the  embellishments  of  his  fancy. 

After  all  the  complaints  that  have  been  made  of  the  peculiar 
distresses  which  are  incident  to  cultivated  minds,  who  would 
exchange  the  sensibilities  of  his  intellectual  and  moral  being 
for  the  apathy  of  those  whose  only  avenues  of  pleasure  and 
pain  are  to  be  found  in  their  animal  nature ; “ who  move 
thoughtlessly  in  the  narrow  circle  of  their  existence,  and  to 
whom  the  falling  leaves  present  no  idea  but  that  of  approaching 
winter  ? ” — Goethe. 

Effects  which  ectttcation  might  ’produce.  — It  is  the  business  of 
education,  not  to  counteract,  in  any  instance,  the  established 
laws  of  our  constitution,  but  to  direct  them  to  their  j)roper  pur- 
poses. That  the  influence  of  early  associations  on  the  mind 
might  be  employed,  in  the  most  effectual  manner,  to  aid  our  moral 
principles,  appears  evidently  from  the  effects  which  we  daily  see 
it  produce,  in  reconciling  men  to  a course  of  action  which 
their  reason  forces  them  to  condemn  ; and  it  is  no  less  obvious 
that  by  means  of  it,  the  happiness  of  human  life  might  be  in- 
creased, and  its  pains  diminished,  if  the  agreeable  ideas  and 
feelings  which  children  are  so  apt  to  connect  with  events  and 
with  situations  which  depend  on  the  caprice  of  fortune,  were 
tirmly  associated  in  their  apprehensions  with  the  duties  of  their 
stations,  with  the  pursuits  of  science,  and  with  those  beauties  of 
nature  which  are  open  to  all. 

These  observations  coincide  nearly  with  the  ancient  Stoical 
doctrine  concerning  the  influence  of  imagination  * on  morals ; 

* According  to  the  use  which  I make  of  the  words  imagination  and  asso- 
ciation in  this  work,  their  effects  are  obviously  distinguishable.  I have 
thought  it  proper,  however,  to  illustrate  the  difference  between  them  a little 
more  fully. 

The  ditfcrencc  between  the  effects  of  association  and  of  imagination,  in 


THE  rNFLUENCE  OP  CASTJAE  ASSOCIATIONS. 


247 


a subject  on  which  many  important  remarks,  (though  expressed 
in  a form  different  from  that  which  modern  philosophers  have 
introduced,  and,  perhaps,  not  altogether  so  precise  and  accu- 
rate,) are  to  be  found  in  the  Discourses  of  Epictetus,  and  in 
the  Meditations  of  Antoninus.  This  doctrine  of  the  Stoical 
school  Dr.  Akenside  has  in  view  in  the  following  passage  : — 

“ Action  treads  the  path 
In  which  Opinion  says  he  follows  good. 

Or  flies  from  evil;  and  Opinion  gives 
Keport  of  good  or  evil,  as  the  scene 


the  sense  in  which  I employ  these  words,  in  heightening  the  pleasure  or 
the  pain  produced  on  the  mind  by  external  objects,  will  appear  from  the 
following  remarks  ; — 

1 . As  far  as  the  association  of  ideas  operates  in  heightening  pleasure  or 
pain,  the  mind  is  passive:  and  accordingly,  where  such  associations  are  a 
source  of  inconvenience,  they  are  seldom  to  he  cured  hy  an  effort  of  our 
volition,  or  even  by  reasoning ; but  by  the  gradual  formation  of  contrary 
associations.  Imagination  is  an  active  exertion  of  the  mind  ; and  al- 
though it  may  often  he  difficult  to  restrain  it,  it  is  plainly  distinguishable 
in  theory  from  the  associations  now  mentioned. 

2.  In  every  case  in  which  the  association  of  ideas  operates,  it  is  implied 
that  some  pleasure  or  pain  is  recalled  which  was  felt  hy  the  mind  before.  I 
visit,  for  example,  a scene  where  I have  been  once  happy  ; and  the  sight  of 
it  affects  me,  on  that  account,  with  a degree  of  pleasure,  which  I should 
not  have  received  from  any  other  scene  equally  beautiful.  I shall  not 
inquire,  whether,  in  such  cases,  the  associated  pleasure  arises  immediately 
upon  the  sight  of  the  object,  and  without  the  intervention  of  any  train  of 
thought ; or  whether  it  is  produced  by  the  recollection  and  conception  of 
former  occurrences  which  the  perception  recalls.  On  neither  supposition 
does  it  imply  the  exercise  of  that  creative  power  of  the  mind  to  which  we 
have  given  the  name  of  Imagination.  It  is  true,  that  commonly,  on  such 
occasions,  imagination  is  busy  ; and  our  pleasure  is  much  heightened  by 
the  coloring  which  she  gives  to  the  objects  of  memory.  But  the  difference 
between  the  effects  which  arise  from  the  operation  of  this  faculty,  and  those 
which  result  from  association,  is  not,  on  that  account,  the  less  real. 

The  influence  of  imagination  on  happiness  is  chiefly  felt  by  cultivated 
minds.  That  of  association  extends  to  all  ranks  of  men,  and  furnishes  the 
chief  instrument  of  education  ; insomuch  that  whoever  has  the  regulation 
of  the  associations  of  another  from  early  infancy,  is,  to  a great  degree,  the 
arbiter  of  his  happiness  or  misery. 

Some  very  ingenious  writers  have  employed  the  word  association  in  so 


248 


THK  INFLUJiNCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATTOKS. 


Was  drawn  by  fancy,  loYcly  or  deformed  : 

Thus  her  report  can  never  there  be  true. 

Where  fancy  cheats  the  intellectual  eye 
With  glaring  colors  and  distorted  lines. 

Is  there  a man,  who  at  the  sound  of  death 
Sees  ghastly  shapes  of  terror  conjured  up. 

And  black  before  him  : nought  but  death-bed  groans 
And  fearful  prayers,  and  plunging  from  the  brink 
Of  light  and  being,  down  the  gloomy  air. 

An  unknorvn  depth  ? Alas  ! in  such  a mind. 

If  no  bright  forms  of  excellence  attend 
The  image  of  his  country ; nor  the  pomp 
Of  sacred  senates,  nor  the  guardian  voice 
Of  justice  on  her  throne,  nor  ought  that  wakes 
The  conscious  bosom  with  a patriot’s  flame  : 

Will  not  Opinion  tell  him,  that  to  die. 

Or  stand  the  hazard,  is  a greater  ill 

Than  to  betray  his  country  1 And  in  act 

Will  he  not  choose  to  be  a wretch  and  live  1 

Here  vice  begins  then.”  — Pleasures  of  Inxacjinahoii,  b.  iii. 

IV.  General  remarks  on  the  subjects  treated  in  the  foregoing 
sections.  — In  pursuing  the  foregoing  Sections  of  this  Chapter, 
I am  aware,  that  some  of  my  readers  may  be  apt  to  think  that 
many  of  the  observations  which  I have  made,  might  easily  be 
resolved  into  more  general  principles.  I am  also  aware,  that  to 
the  followers  of  Dr.  Hartley,  a similar  objection  will  occur 


extensive  a sense,  as  to  comprehend,  not  only  imagination,  but  all  the 
other  faculties  of  the  mind.  Wherever  the  pleasing  or  the  painful  effect  of 
an  object  does  not  depend  solely  on  the  object  itself,  but  arises  either 
wholly  or  in  part  from  some  mental  operation  to  which  the  perception  of  it 
gives  rise,  the  effect  is  referred  to  association.  And,  undoubtedly,  this 
language  may  be  employed  with  propriety,  if  the  word  association  be  ap- 
plied to  all  the  ideas  and  feelings  which  may  arise  in  the  mind,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  exercise  which  the  sight  of  the  object  may  give  to  the 
imagination,  to  the  reasoning  powers,  and  to  the  other  principles  of  our 
nature.  But  in  this  work,  and  particularly  in  the  second  part  of  chap,  v., 
I employ  the  word  association  in  a much  more  limited  sense  ; to  express 
the  effect  which  an  object  derives  from  ideas,  or  from  feelings  which  it  does  not 
necessarily  suggest,  but  which  it  uniformly  recalls  to  the  mind,  in  consequence  of 
early  and  long  continued  habits. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


249 


against  all  the  other  parts  of  this  work ; and  that  it  will  appear 
to  them  the  etfect  of  inexcusable  prejudice,  that  I shall  stop 
short  so  frequently  in  the  explanation  of  phenomena ; when  he 
has  accounted  in  so  satisfactory  a manner,  by  means  of  the 
association  of  ideas,  for  all  the  appearances  which  human  nature 
exhibits. 

To  this  objection,  I shall  not  feel  myself  much  interested  to 
reply,  provided  it  be  granted  that  my  observations  are  candidly 
and  accurately  stated,  so  far  as  they  reach.  Supposmg  that  in 
some  cases  I may  have  stopj^>ed  short  too  soon,  my  speculations, 
although  they  may  be  censured  as  imperfect,  cannot  be  con- 
sidered as  standing  in  opposition  to  the  conclusions  of  more 
successful  inquirers. 

hlay  I be  allowed  further  to  observe,  that  such  views  of  the 
human  mind  as  ai’e  contained  in  this  work,  (even  supposing  the 
objection  to  be  well  founded,)  are,  in  my  opinion,  indispensably 
necessary,  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  those  very  general 
and  comprehensive  theories  conceiming  it,  which  some  eminent 
writers  of  the  present  age  have  been  ambitious  to  form  ? 

Concerning  the  merit  of  these  theories,  I shall  not  presume  to 
give  any  judgment.  I shall  only  remark,  that,  in  all  the  other 
sciences,  the  progress  of  discovery  has  been  gradual,  from  the 
less  general  to  the  more  general  laws  of  nature ; and  that  it 
would  be  singular,  indeed,  if  in  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  a science  which  but  a few  years  ago  was  confessedly  in  its 
infancy,  and  which  certainly  labors  under  many  disadvantages 
peculiar  to  itself,  a step  should,  aU  at  once,  be  made  to  a single 
principle  comprehending  all  the  particular  phenomena  which  we 
know. 

Particular  facts  are  to  be  taught  frst ; refined  theories  after- 
wards. — Supposing  such  a theory  to  be  completely  established, 
it  would  still  be  proper  to  lead  the  minds  of  students  to  it  by 
gradual  steps.  One  of  the  most  important  uses  of  theory,  is  to 
give  the  memory  a permanent  hold,  and  a prompt  command,  ol 
the  particular  facts  which  we  were  previously  acquainted  with ; 
and  no  theory  can  be  completely  understood,  unless  the  mind  be 
led  to  it  nearly  in  the  order  of  investigation.  • 


250 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


It  is  more  particularly  useful,  in  conducting  the  studies  of 
others,  to  familiarize  their  minds,  as  completely  as  possible,  with 
those  laws  of  nature  for  which  we  have  the  direct  evidence  of 
sense,  or  of  consciousness,  before  directing  their  inquiries  to  the 
more  abstruse  and  refined  generalizations  of  speculative  curi- 
osity. In  natural  philosophy,  supposing  the  theory  of  Boscovich 
to  be  true,  it  would  still  be  proper,  or  rather  indeed  absolutely 
necessary,  to  accustom  students,  in  the  first  stage  of  their  physi- 
cal education,  to  dwell  on  those  general  physical  facts  which  tall 
under  our  actual  observation,  and  about  which  all  the  practical 
arts  of  life  are  conversant.  In  like  manner,  in  the  philosophy 
of  mind,  there  are  many  general  facts  for  which  we  have  the 
direct  evidence  of  consciousness.  The  words,  attention,  conce-p- 
tion,  memory,  abstraction,  imagination,  curiosity,  ambition,  com- 
passion, resentment,  exjiress  powers  and  principles  of  our  nature, 
which  every  man  may  study  by  reflecting  on  his  own  internal 
operations.  Words  corresponding  to  these  are  to  be  found  in 
all  languages,  and  may  be  considered  as  forming  the  first  attempt 
towards  a philosophical  classification  of  intellectual  and  moral 
phenomena.  Such  a classification,  however  imperfect  and  indis- 
tinct, we  may  be  assured,  must  have  some  foundation  in  nature  ; 
and  it  is  at  least  prudent,  for  a philosopher  to  keep  it  in  view  as 
the  groundwork  of  his  own  arrangement.  It  not  only  directs 
our  attention  to  those  facts  in  the  human  constitution,  on  which 
every  solid  theory  in  this  bi'anch  of  science  must  be  founded;' 
but  to  the  facts,  which,  in  all  ages,  have  appeared  to  the  common 
sense  of  mankind  to  be  the  most  striking  and  important ; and 
of  which  it  ought  to  be  the  great  object  of  theorists,  not  to 
supei’sede,  but  to  facilitate  the  study. 

Difficulty  of  resolving  facts  into  general  principles.  — There  is 
indeed  good  reason  for  believing,  that  many  of  the  facts  which 
our  consciousness  would  lead  us  to  consider,  ujion  a superficial 
view,  as  ultimate  facts,  are  resolvable  into  other  principles  still 
more  general.  “ Long  before  we  are  capable  of  reflection,”  says 
Dr.  Reid,  “ the  original  perceptions  and  notions  of  the  mind  are 
so  mixed,  compounded,  and  decompounded,  by  habits,  associa- 
tions, and  abstractions,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  for  the  mind 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


251 


to  return  upon  its  own  footsteps,  and  trace  back  those  operations 
which  have  employed  it  since  it  first  began  to  think  and  to  act.” 
The  same  author  remarks,  that,  “ if  we  could  obtain  a distinct 
and  full  history  of  all  that  hath  passed  in  the  mind  of  a child, 
from  the  beginning  of  life  and  sensation,  till  it  grows  up  to  the 
use  of  reason ; how  its  infant  faculties  began  to  work,  and  how 
they  brought  forth  and  ripened  all  the  various  notions,  opinions, 
and  sentiments,  which  we  find  in  ourselves  when  we  come  to 
be  capable  of  reflection ; this  would  be  a treasure  of  Natiu'al 
History,  which  would  probably  give  more  light  into  the  human 
faculties  than  all  the  systems  of  philosophers  about  them,  since 
the  beginning  of  the  world.”  To  accomplish  an  analysis  of 
these  complicated  phenomena  into  the  simple  and  original  prin- 
ciples of  our  constitution,  is  the  great  object  of  this  branch  of 
philosophy ; but,  in  order  to  succeed,  it  is  necessary  to  ascertain 
facts  before  we  begin  to  reason,  and  to  avoid  generalizing,  in 
any  instance,  till  we  have  completely  secured  the  ground  that 
we  have  gained.  Such  a caution,  which  is  necessary  in  all  the 
sciences,  is,  in  a more  particular  manner,  necessary  here,  where 
the  very  facts  from  which  all  our  inferences  must  be  drawn,  are 
to  be  ascertained  only  by  the  most  patient  attention ; and  where 
almost  all  of  them  are,  to  a great  degree,  disguised ; partly  by 
the  inaccuracies  of  popular  language,  and  partly  by  the  mistaken 
theories  of  philosophers. 

Illustrations  drawn  from  the  philosophy  of  chemistry.  — As  the 
order  established  in  the  intellectual  world  seems  to  be  regulated 
by  laws  perfectly  analogous  to  those  which  we  trace  among  the 
phenomena  of  the  material  system ; and  as  in  all  our  philosophical 
inquiries,  (to  whatever  subject  they  may  relate,)  the  progress  of 
the  mind  is  liable  to  be  afiected  by  the  same  tendency  to  a pre- 
mature generalization,  the  following  extract  from  an  eminent 
chemical  writer  may  contribute  to  illustrate  the  scope,  and  to 
confirm  the  justness,  of  some  of  the  foregoing  reflections. 

“ Within  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  sevei'al  new  metals 
and  new  earths  have  been  made  known  to  the  world.  The 
names  that  support  these  discoveries  are  respectable,  and  the 
experiments  decisive.  If  we  do  not  give  our  assent  to  them,  no 


252 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


single  proposition  in  chemistry  can  for  a moment  stand.  But 
whether  all  these  are  really  simple  substances,  or  compounds 
not  }'et  resolved  into  their  elements,  is  what  the  authors  them- 
selves cannot  possibly  assert ; nor  would  it  in  the  least  diminish 
the  merit  of  their  observations,  if  future  experiment  should  prove 
them  to  have  been  mistaken  as  to  the  simplicity  of  these  sub- 
stances. This  remark  should  not  be  confined  to  late  discoveries ; 
it  may  as  justly  be  applied  to  those  earths  and  metals  with  which 
we  have  been  long  acquainted.”  — “In  the  dark  ages  of  chemis- 
try, the  object  was  to  rival  nature  ; and  the  substance  which  the 
adepts  of  those  days  were  busied  to  create,  was  universally 
allowed  to  be  simple.  In  a moi’e  enlightened  period,  we  have 
extended  our  inquiries,  and  multiplied  the  number  of  the  ele- 
ments. The  last  task  will  be  to  sim2')lity ; and,  by  a closer 
observation  of  nature,  to  learn  from  what  small  store  of  primi- 
tive materials,  all  that  we  behold  and  wonder  at  was  ci-eated.” 
Chenevix’  Inquiries  concerning  Palladium.. 

The  analogy  between  the  history  of  Chemistry  and  that  of 
the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  which  has  often  struck  me 
in  contrasting  the  views  of  the  alchemist  with  those  of  Lavoisier 
and  his  followers,  has  acquired  much  additional  value  and  im- 
jiortance  in  my  estimation,  since  I had  the  pleasure  to  peruse  a 
late  work  of  M.  de  Gerando ; in  which  I find,  that  the  same 
analogy  has  presented  itself  to  that  most  judicious  philosopher, 
and  has  been  applied  by  him  to  the  same  practical  purpose,  of 
exposing  the  false  pretensions  and  premature  generalizations  of 
some  modern  metaphysicians. 

“ It  required  nothing  less  than  the  united  splendor  of  the  dis- 
coveries brought  to  light  by  the  new  chemical  school,  to  tear  the 
minds  of  men  from  the  jaursuit  of  a simple  and  primary  element ; 
a pursuit  renewed  in  every  age  with  an  indefatigable  persever- 
ance, and  always  renewed  in  vain.  With  what  feelings  of  con- 
tempt would  the  physiologists  of  former  times  have  looked  down 
on  the  chemists  of  the  present  age,  whose  limited  and  circum- 
scribed system  admits  nearly  forty  different  principles  in  the 
composition  of  bodies  ! What  a subject  of  ridiculp  would  the 
new  nomenclature  have  afforded  to  an  alchemist ! ” 


THE  INFLUENCE  OP  CASUAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 


253 


“The  Philosophy  of  Mind  has  its  alchemists  also:  — men 
whose  studies  are  directed  to  the  pursuit  of  one  single  principle, 
into  which  the  whole  science  may  be  resolved,  and  who  flatter 
themselves  with  the  hope  of  discovering  the  grand  secret,  by 
which  the  pure  Gold  of  Truth  may  be  produced  at  pleasure.” 

Among  these  alchemists  in  the  science  of  the  mind,  the  first 
place  is  undoubtedly  due  to  Dr.  Hartley,  who  not  only  attempts 
to  account  for  all  the . phenomena  of  human  natui'e  from  the 
single  principle  of  association,  combined  with  the  hypothetical 
assumption  of  an  invisible  fluid  or  ether,  producing  vibrations  in 
the  medullary  substance  of  the  brain  and  nerves ; but  indulges 
his  imagination  m anticipating  an  era,  “ when  future  generations 
shall  put  all  kinds  of  evidences  and  inquiries  into  mathematical 
forms  ; reducing  Aristotle’s  ten  Categories  and  Bishop  "Wilkins’ 
forty  Summa  Genera,  to  the  head  of  quantity  alone,  so  as  to 
make  Mathematics  and  Logic,  Natural  History  and  Civil  His- 
tory, Natural  Philosophy  and  philosophy  of  all  other  kinds, 
coincide  omni  ex  parte”  If  I had  never  read  another  sentence 
of  this  author,  I should  have  required  no  further  evidence  of 
the  unsoundness  of  his  understanding. 

The  nomenclature  of  philosophy.  — I have  only  to  add,  that, 
although  I have  retained  the  phrase  of  the  association  of  ideas, 
in  compliance  with  common  language,  I am  far  from  being  com- 
pletely satisfied  with  this  mode  of  expression.  I have  retained 
it,  chiefly  that  I might  not  expose  myself  to  the  censure  of 
delivering  old  doctrines  in  a new  form. 

As  I have  endeavored  to  employ  it  with  caution,  I hope  that  it 
has  not  often  misled  me  in  my  reasonings.  At  the  same  time, 
I am  more  and  more  convinced  of  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  a reformation  of  the  common  language,  in  most  of  the 
branches  of  science.  How  much  such  a reformation  has  effected 
in  Chemistry  is  well  known;  and  it  is  evidently  much  more 
necessary  in  the  Philosophy  of  Mind,  v/here  the  prevailing  lan- 
guage adds  to  the  common  inaccuracies  of  popular  expressions, 
the  peculiar  disadvantage  of  being  all  suggested  by  the  analogy 
of  matter.  Often,  in  the  composition  of  this  work,  have  I recol- 
lected the  advice  of  Bergman  to  Morveau  : “ In  reforming  the 

22 


254 


MEMORY. 


nomenclature  of  Chemistry,  spare  no  word  which  is  improper. 
They  who  understand  the  subject  already,  will  suffer  no  incon- 
venience ; and  they  to  whom  the  subject  is  new,  will  comprehend 
it  with  the  greater  facility.”  But  it  belongs  to  such  authors 
alone  as  have  extended  the  boundaries  of  science  by  their  own 
discoveries,  to  introduce  innovations  in  language  with  any  hope 
of  success. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  MEMORY. 

I.  General  observations  on  Memory.  — Among  the  various 
powers  of  the  understanding,  there  is  none  which  has  been  so 
attentively  examined  by  philosophers,  or  concerning  which  so 
many  important  facts  and  observations  have  been  collected,  as 
the  faculty  of  Memory.  This  is  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  its 
nature,  which  renders  it  easily  distinguishable  from  all  the  other 
principles  of  our  constitution,  even  by  those  who  have  not  been 
accustomed  to  metaphysical  investigations ; and  partly  to  its 
immediate  subserviency,  not  only  to  the  pursuits  of  science,  but 
to  the  ordinary  business  of  life  ; in  consequence  of  which,  many 
of  its  most  curious  laws  had  been  observed,  long  before  any 
analysis  was  attempted  of  the  other  powers  of  the  mind,  and 
have,  for  many  ages,  formed  a part  of  the  common  maxims 
which  are  to  be  found  in  every  treatise  of  education.  Some 
important  remarks  on  the  subject  may,  in  particular,  be  collected 
from  the  wi-itings  of  the  ancient  rhetoricians. 

Different  significations  of  Memory.  — The  word  Memory  is 
not  employed  uniformly  in  the  same  precise  sense  ; but  it  always 
expresses  some  modification  of  that  faculty,  which  enables  us  to 
treasure  up  and  preserve  for  future  use  the  knowledge  we 
acquire, — -a  faculty  which  is  obviously  the  great  foundation  of  all 


MEMORY. 


255 


intellectual  improvement,  and  Avithout  which  no  advantage  could 
he  derived  from  the  most  enlarged  experience.  This  faculty 
implies  two  things,  — a capacity  of  retaining  knowledge,  and  a 
power  of  recalling  it  to  our  thoughts  when  we  have  occasion  to 
apply  it  to  use.  The  word  Memory  is  sometimes  employed  to 
express  the  capacity,  and  sometimes  the  power.  When  we  speak 
of  a retentive  Memory,  Ave  use  it  in  the  former  sense ; Avhen  of 
a ready  Memory,  in  the  latter. 

The  various  particulars  which  compose  our  stock  of  knoAvl- 
edge  are,  from  time  to  time,  recalled  to  our  thoughts  in  one  of 
two  ways  ; sometimes  they  recur  to  us  spontaneously,  or  at  least, 
Avithout  any  interference  on  our  part;  in  other  cases,  they  are 
recalled  in  consequence  of  an  effort  of  our  will.  F or  the  former 
operation  of  the  mind,  Ave.  have  no  appropriated  name  in  our 
language  distinct  from  Memory.  The  latter,  too,  is  often  called 
by  the  same  name,  but  is  more  properly  distinguished  by  the 
v/ord  recollection. 

There  are,  I believe,  some  other  acceptations  besides  these,  in 
Avhich  the  word  Memory  has  been  occasionally  employed ; but 
as  its  ambiguities  are  not  of  such  a nature  as  to  mislead  us  in 
our  present  inquiries,  I shall  not  dAvell  any  longer  on  the  illus- 
tration of  distinctions,  which,  to  the  greater  part  of  readers, 
might  appear  uninteresting  and  minute.*  One  distinction  only 
relative  to  this  subject  occurs  to  me  as  deserving  particular 
attention. 

Memory  involves  an  idea  of  the  past.  — The  operations  of 


* In  the  French  tongue,  there  are  several  words  connected  Avith  tins 
operation  of  the  mind,  marking  nice  shades  of  meaning,  which  cannot  be 
expressed  in  our  language  without  circumlocution.  Such  (according  to 
Girard)  arc  the  Avords  Memoire  and  Souvenir,  the  former  referring  to  the 
understanding  alone,  the  latter,  to  things  which  also  touch  or  affect  the 
heart.  This  distinction  Avas  plainly  in  the  view  of  Diderot,  in  a passage 
Avhich  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  translate  into  English  Avithout  impairing 
somewhat  of  the  beauty  of  the  original.  “ Eapportez  tout  au  dernier  mo- 
ment ; a ce  moment  ou  la  memoire  des  faits  les  plus  eclatants  ne  vaudra 
pas  le  souvenir  d’un  verre  d’eau  presente  par  humanite  a celui  qui  avoit 
soif.” 


256 


MEMOKY- 


Memory  relate  either  to  things  and  their  relations,  or  to  events. 
In  the  former  case,  thoughts  which  have  been  previously  in  the 
mind  may  recur  to  us  without  suggesting  the  idea  of  the  past,  or 
of  any  modification  of  time  whatever ; as  when  I rejjeat  over  a 
poem  which  I have  got  by  heart,  or  when  I think  of  the  features 
of  an  absent  friend.  In  this  last  instance,  indeed,  philosophers 
distinguish  the  act  of  the  mind  by  the  name  of  conception  ; but 
i n ordinary  discourse,  and  frequently  even  in  jjhilosophical  writ- 
ing, it  is  considered  as  an  exertion  of  Memoi’y.  In  these  and 
similar  cases,  it  is  obvious,  that  the  operations  of  this  faculty  do 
not  necessarily  involve  the  idea  of  the  past. 

The  case  is  different  with  respect  to  the  Memory  of  events. 
When  I think  of  these,  I not  only  recall  to  the  mind  the  former 
objects  of  its  thoughts,  but  I refer  the  event  to  a particular 
point  of  time ; so  that,  of  every  such  act  of  Memory,  the  idea 
of  the  past  is  a necessary  concomitant. 

I have  been  led  to  take  notice  of  this  distinction,  in  order  to 
obviate  an  objection  which  some  of  the  phenomena  of  Memory 
seem  to  present,  against  a doctrine  which  I formerly  stated, 
when  treating  of  the  powers  of  conception  and  imagination. 

How  conception  passes  into,  or  becomes.  Memory.  — It  is  evi- 
dent that,  when  I think  of  an  event,  in  which  any  object  of 
sense  Avas  concerned,  my  recollection  of  the  event  must  neces- 
sarily involve  an  act  of  conception.  Thus,  when  I think  of  a 
dramatic  representation  which  I have  recently  seen,  my  recol- 
lection of  what  I saw,  necessarily  involves  a conception  of  the 
different  actors  by  whom  it  was  performed.  But  every  act  of 
recollection  which  relates  to  events,  is  accompanied  with  a belief 
of  their  existence.  How  then  are  we  to  reconcile  this  con- 
clusion with  the  doctrine  formerly  maintained  concerning  concep- 
tion, according  to  which,  every  exertion  of  that  power  is 
accompanied  with  a behef  that  its  object  exists  before  us  at  the 
present  moment  ? 

The  only  way  that  occui-s  to  me  of  removing  this  difliculty,  is 
by  supposing,  that  the  remembrance  of  a past  event  is  not  a 
simple  act  of  the  mind;  but  that  the  mind  first  forms  a concep- 
tion of  the  event,  and  then  judges  from  circumstances  of  the 


MEMORY. 


257 


period  of  time  to  which  it  is  to  be  referred ; a supposition  which 
is  by  no  means  a gratuitous  one,  invented  to  answer  a particular 
purpose  ; but  which,  as  far  as  I am  able  to  judge,  is  agreeable 
to  fact ; for  if  we  have  the  power,  as  will  not  be  disputed,  of 
conceiving  a past  event  without  any  reference  to  time,  it  follows, 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  ideas  or  notions  which  Memory  pre- 
sents to  us,  which  is  necessarily  accompanied  with  a belief  of 
past  existence,  in  a way  analogous  to  that  in  which  our  percep- 
tions are  accompanied  with  a belief  of  the  present  existence 
of  their  objects ; and,  therefore,  that  the  reference  of  the  event 
to  the  particular  period  at  which  it  happened,  is  a judgment 
founded  on  concomitant  circumstances.  So  long  as  we  are 
occupied  with  the  conception  of  any  particular  object  connected 
Avith  the  event,  we  believe  the  present  existence  of  the  object ; 
but  this  belief,  which,  in  most  cases,  is  only  momentary,  is 
instantly  corrected  by  habits  of  judging  acquired  by  experience ; 
and  as  soon  as  the  mind  is  disengaged  from  such  a belief,  it  is 
left  at  liberty  to  refer  the  event  to  the  period  at  which  it  actually 
happened.  Nor  will  the  apparent  instantaneousness  of  such 
judgments  be  considered  as  an  unsurmountable  objection  to 
the  doctrine  now  advanced,  by  those  who  have  reflected  on 
the  perception  of  distance  obtained  by  sight,  which,  although 
it  seems  to  be  as  immediate  as  any  perception  of  touch,  has 
been  shown  by  philosophers  to  be  the  result  of  a judgment 
founded  on  experience  and  observation.  The  reference  Ave 
make  of  past  events  to  the  particular  points  of  time  at  which 
they  took  place,  Avill,  I am  inclined  to  think,  the  more  we  con- 
sider the  subject,  be  found  the  more  strikingly  analogous  to  the 
estimates  of  distance  Ave  learn  to  form  by  the  eye. 

Although,  hoAvever,  I am,  myself,  satisfied  Avith  the  conclusion 
to  which  the  foregoing  reasonings  lead,  I am  far  from  expecting 
that  the  case  will  be  the  same  with  all  my  readers.  Some  of 
their  objections,  which  I can  easily  anticipate,  might,  I believe, 
be  obviated  by  a little  further  discussion ; but  as  the  question  is 
merely  a matter  of  curiosity,  and  has  no  necessary  connection 
with  the  observations  I am  to  make  in  this  chapter,  I shall  not 
prosecute  the  subject  at  present.  The  opinion,  indeed,  we  form 
■ 22* 


258 


MEMORY. 


concerning  it,  has  no  reference  to  any  of  the  doctrines  main- 
tained in  this  work,  excepting  to  a particular  speculation  con- 
cerning the  belief  accompanying  conception,  which  I ventured 
to  state  in  treating  of  that  subject,  and  which,  as  it  appears  to 
be  extremely  doubtful  to  some  whose  opinions  I respect,  I pro- 
posed with  a degree  of  diffidence  suitable  to  the  difficulty  of  such 
an  inquiry.  The  remaining  observations  which  I am  to  make 
on  the  power  of  Memory,  whatever  opinion  may  be  formed  of 
their  importance,  will  furnish  but  little  room  for  a diversity  of 
judgment  concerning  their  truth. 

Why  ice  remember  some  things  better  than  others.  — In  con- 
sidering this  part  of  our  constitution,  one  of  the  most  obvious 
and  striking  questions  that  occurs,  is,  what  the  circumstances  are 
Avhich  determine  the  Memory  to  retain  some  things  in  preference 
to  others  ? Among  the  subjects  which  successively  occupy  our 
thoughts,  by  far  the  gi’eater  number  vanish  without  leaving  a 
trace  behind  them  ; while  others  become,  as  it  were,  a part  of 
ourselves,  and,  by  their  accumulations,  lay  a foundation  for  our 
perpetual  progress  in  knowledge.  AVithout  pretending  to  ex- 
haust the  subject,  I shall  content  myself  at  present  with  a par- 
tial solution  of  this  difficulty,  by  illustrating  the  dependence  of 
Memory  upon  two  principles  of  our  nature,  with  which  it  is 
plainly  very  intimately  connected ; attention  and  the  association 
of  ideas. 

I endeavored  in  a former  chapter  to  show,  that  there  is  a 
certain  act  of  the  mind,  (distinguished,  both  by  philosophers 
and  the  vulgar,  by  the  name  of  attention,)  without  which  even 
the  objects  of  our  pei’ceptions  make  no  impression  on  the  Mem- 
ory. It  is  also  matter  of  common  remai’k,  that  the  permanence 
of  the  impression  which  any  thing  leaves  in  the  Memory,  is 
proportioned  to  the  degree  of  attention  which  was  originally 
given  to  it.  The  observation  has  been  so  often  repeated,  and  is 
so  manifestly  true,  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  offer  any  illustration 
of  it.* 


* It  seems  to  be  owing  to  this  dcpenclence  of  memory  on  attention,  that 
it  is  easier  to  get  b - heart  a composition  after  a very  few  readings,  with 


MEMORY. 


259 


Attention  sometimes  spontaneous,  and  sometimes  requires  effort. 
— I have  only  to  observe  further,  with  respect  to  attention,  con- 
sidered in  the  relation  in  which  it  stands  to  Memory,  that  al- 
though it  be  a voluntary  act,  it  requires  experience  to  have  it 
always  under  command.  In  the  case  of  objects  to  which  we 
have  been  taught  to  attend  at  an  early  period  of  life,  or  which 
are  calculated  to  rouse  the  curiosity,  or  to  affect  any  of  our 
passions,  the  attention  fixes  itself  upon  them,  as  it  were  sponta- 
neously, and  ^vithout  any  effort  on  our  part,  of  which  we  are 
conscious.  How  perfectly  do  we  remember,  and  even  retain, 
for  a long  course  of  years,  the  faces  and  the  handwritings  of 
our  acquaintances,  although  we  never  took  any  particular  pains 
to  fix  them  in  the  Memory  ? On  the  other  hand,  if  an  object 
does  not  mterest  some  principle  of  our  nature,  we  may  examme 
it  again  and  again,  with  a wish  to  treasure  up  the  knowledge  of 
it  in  the  mind,  without  our  being  able  to  command  that  degree 
of  attention  which  may  lead  us  to  recognize  it.  the  next  time  we 
see  it.  A person,  for  example,  who  has  not  been  accustomed  to 
attend  particularly  to  horses  or  to  cattle,  may  study  for  a con- 
siderable time  the  appearance  of  a horse  or  of  a bullock,  with 
out  being  able,  a few  days  afterwards,  to  pronounce  on  his  iden- 
tity ; while  a horse-dealer  or  a grazier  recollects  many  hundreds 
of  that  class  of  animals  with  which  he  is  conversant,  as  per- 
fectly as  he  does  the  faces  of  his  acquaintances.  In  order  to 
account  for  this,  I would  remark,  that  although  attention  be  a 
voluntary  act,  and  although  we  are  always  able,  when  we  choose, 
to  make  a momentary  exertion  of  it ; yet,  unless  the  object  to 
which  it  is  directed  be  really  interesting,  in  some  degree,  to  the 

an  attempt  to  repeat  it  at  the  end  of  each,  than  after  a hundred  readings 
without  such  an  effort.  The  effort  rouses  the  attention  from  that  languid 
state  in  which  it  remains,  while  the  mind  is  giving  a passive  reception  to 
foreign  ideas.  The  fact  is  remarked  by  Lord  Bacon,  and  is  explained  by 
him  on  the  same  principle  to  which  I have  refen-ed  it. 

“ Qute  expectantur  et  attentionem  excitant,  melius  hserent  quam  quae 
praetervolant.  Itaque  si  scriptum  aliquod  vicies  perlegeris,  non  tarn  facile 
illud  memoriter  disces,  quam  si  illud  legas  decies,  tentando  interim  illud 
recitare,  et  ubi  deficit  memoria,  inspiciendo  hbntm.”  — Bacon,  Nov  Org. 
lib.  ii.  aph.  26. 


260 


MEIIOET. 


curiosity,  the  train  of  our  ideas  goes  on,  and  we  immediately 
foi’get  our  purpose.  When  we  are  employed,  therefore,  in 
studying  such  an  object,  it  is  not  an  exclusive  and  steady  atten- 
tion that  we  give  to  it,  but  we  are  losing  sight  of  it,  and  recur- 
ring to  it  every  instant ; and  the  painful  efforts  of  which  we  are 
conscious,  are  not,  (as  we  are  apt  to  suppose  them  to  be,) 
efforts  of  uncommon  attention,  but  unsuccessful  attempts  to 
keep  the  mind  steady  to  its  object,  and  to  exclude  the  extrane- 
ous ideas,  which  are  from  time  to  time  soliciting  its  notice. 

If  these  observations  be  well  founded,  they  afford  an  ex- 
planation of  a fact  which  has  often  been  remarked,  that  objects 
are  easily  remembered  which  affect  any  of  the  passions.*  The 
passion  assists  the  Memory,  not  in  consequence  of  any  immedi- 
ate connection  between  them,  but  as  it  presents,  during  the  time 
it  continues,  a steady  and  exclusive  object  to  the  attention. 

The  connection  between  Memory  and  the  associatiofi  of  ideas, 
is  so  striking,  that  it  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  the  whole 
of  its  phenomena  might  be  resolved  into  this  principle.  But 
this  is  evidently  not  the  case.  The  association  of  ideas  connects 
our  various  thoughts  with  each  other,  so  as  to  present  them  to 
the  mind  in  a certain  order  ; but  it  presupposes  the  existence  of 
these  thoughts  in  the  mind ; or,  in  other  words,  it  presupposes  a 
faculty  of  retaining  the  knowledge  which  we  acquire.  It  involves, 
also,  a power  of  recognizing,  as  former  objects  of  attention,  the 
thoughts  that  from  time  to  time  occur  to  us ; a power  which  is 
not  implied  in  that  law  of  our  nature  which  is  called  the  associ- 
ation of  ideas.  It  is  possible,  surely,  that  our  thoughts  might 
have  succeeded  each  other,  according  to  the  same  laws  as  at 


* “ Si  quas  res  in  vita  videmus,  parvas,  usitatas,  quotidianas,  eas  me- 
minisse  non  solemus  ; propterea  quod  nulla  nisi  nova  aut  admirabili  re 
commovetur  animus.  At  si  quid  videmus  aut  andimus  egregie  turpe,  aut 
honestum,  inusitatum,  magnum,  incredibile,  ridiculum,  id  diu  memiuisse 
consuevimus.”  [When  we  witness  things  that  are  small,  common,  and  of 
daily  recurrence,  we  do  not  usually  remember  them  ; for  the  mind  is  not 
stirred  except  by  something  new  and  wonderful.  But  if  we  see  or  hear 
any  thing  remarkably  base,  honorable,  unusual,  great,  incredible,  or  ridicu- 
lous, it  generally  remains  long  in  the  memory.]  — Ad.  Herenn,  lib.  3. 


ME3I0EY. 


261 


present,  without  suggesting  to  us  at  all  the  idea  of  the  past ; 
and,  in  fact,  this  supposition  is  realized  to  a certain  degree  in 
the  case  of  some  old  men,  who  retain  pretty  exactly  the  infor- 
mation which  they  receive,  hut  are  sometimes  unable  to  recollect 
in  what  manner  the  particulars  which  they  find  connected 
together  in  their  thoughts,  at  first  came  into  the  mind  ; whether 
they  occurred  to  them  in  a dream,  or  were  communicated  to 
them  in  conversation. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  evident,  that  without  the  associating 
principle,  the  powers  of  retaining  our  thoughts,  and  of  recog- 
nizing them  when  they  occur  to  us,  would  have  been  of  little 
use ; for  the  most  important  articles  of  our  knowledge  might 
have  remained  latent  in  the  mind,  even  when  those  occasions 
presented  themselves  to  which  they  are  immediately  applicable. 
In  consequence  of  this  law  of  our  nature,  not  only  are  all  our 
various  ideas  made  to  j^ass,  from  time  to  time,  in  review  before 
us,  and  to  offer  themselves  to  our  choice  as  subjects  of  medita- 
tion, but  when  an  occasion  occurs  which  calls  for  the  aid  of  our 
past  experience,  the  occasion  itself  recalls  to  us  all  the  informa- 
tion upon  the  subject  which  that  experience  has  accumulated. 

The  foregoing  observations  comprehend  an  analysis  of  Memory 
sufficiently  accurate  for  my  present  purpose ; some  other  re- 
marks, tending  to  illustrate  the  same  subject  more  completely, 
will  occur  in  the  remaining  sections  of  this  chapter. 

Memory  itself  is  an  ultimate  and  inexplicable  fact.  — It  is 
hardly  necessary  for  me  to  add,  that  when  we  have  pro- 
ceeded so  far  in  our  inquiries  concerning  Memory,  as  to  obtain 
an  analysis  of  that  power,  and  to  ascertain  the  relation  in  which 
it  stands  to  the  other  principles  of  our  constitution,  we  have 
advanced  as  far  towards  an  explanation  of  it  as  the  nature  of 
the  subject  permits.  The  various  theoi'ies  which  have  attempted 
to  account  for  it  by  traces  or  impressions  in  the  sensorium,  are 
obviously  too  unphilosophical  to  deserve  a particular  refutation.* 

* The  following  passage  from  Malobranclie  will  be  a sufficient  specimen 
of  the.  common  theories  with  respect  to  memory. 

“ In  order  to  give  an  explanation  of  memory,  it  should  be  called  to 
mind,  that  all  our  different  perceptions  are  affixed  to  the  changes  which 


262 


MEMORY. 


Such,  indeed,  is  the  poverty  of  language,  that  we  cannot  speak 
on  the  subject  without  einj)loying  expressions  which  suggest  one 
theory  or  another ; but  it  is  of  importance  for  us  always  to  recol- 
lect, that  these  expressions  are  entirely  ligurative,  and  afford  no 
explanation  of  the  phenomena  to  which  they  refer’.  It  is  partly 


happen  to  the  fibres  of  the  prhieipal  parts  of  the  brain,  wherein  the  soul 
particularly  resides. 

“ This  supposition  being  laid  down,  the  nature  of  the  memory  is  ex- 
plained ; for  as  the  branches  of  a tree,  which  have  continued  some  time 
bent  after  a particular  manner,  preserve  a readiness  and  facility  of  being 
bent  afresh  in  the  same  manner ; so  the  fibres  of  the  brain,  having  once 
received  certain  impressions  from  the  current  of  the  animal  spirits,  and 
from  the  action  of  the  objects  upon  them,  retain  for  a considerable  time 
some  facility  of  receiving  the  same  dispositions.  Now  the  memory  consists 
only  in  that  promptness  or  facility ; since  a man  thinks  upon  the  same 
things,  whenever  the  brain  receives  the  same  impressions.”  — Book  ii. 
chap.  V. 

The  different  changes  which  this  power  of  the  mind  undergoes,  in  the 
course  of  our  progress  through  life,  are  explained  by  some  other  writers  by 
means  of  the  following  hypothesis.  “ The  mind,”  we  arc  told,  “ is  like 
wax,  which  may  be  softened  too  much  to  retain,  or  too  little  to  receive,  an 
impression.  In  childhood,  the  material  is  too  soft,  and  gives  way  to  im- 
pressions, but  does  not  retain  them.  In  old  age,  it  is  hard,  and  retains  the 
impressions  formerly  made,  but  does  not  receive  any  new  ones.  In  man- 
hood, the  consistence  is  at  once  proper  to  receive  and  to  retain  the  impres- 
sions which  arc  made  upon  it.”  I quote  the  last  sentences  on  the  authority 
of  Dr.  Ferguson,  as  I don’t  know  from  what  writer  they  are  taken.  In  the 
main,  the  theory  here  described  agrees  with  that  of  Aristotle. 

The  habitual  use  we  make  of  the  art  of  printing  and  of  writing,  in  the 
acquisition  and  in  the  preservation  of  our  knowledge,  is  apt  to  predispose 
the  itnderstanding  in  favor  of  this  last  theory.  Wo  conceive  the  ineimry  in 
particular  (not  unnaturally,  I own,  upon  a superficial  view  of  the  subject) 
to  be  analogous  to  a tablet,  on  which  certain  traces  are  left ; by  recurring  to 
which,  the  mind  can,  as  it  were,  read,  without  any  fresh  aids  from  withoftt, 
the  recorded  results  of  its  former  experience  or  reflection. 

Admitting,  for  a moment,  the  existence  of  these  impressions,  the  ques- 
tion still  recurs,  what  is  the  nature  of  that  thinking  and  percipient  being 
which  reads  the  impressions,  and  avails  itself  of  their  aid  in  the  exercise 
of  its  various  difficulties  ? Who  taught  the  mind  to  interpret  their  import, 
and  to  annex  to  them  notions  as  foreign  to  themselves,  as  alphabetical 
characters  are  to  the  information  which  they  convey  ? Even  upon  this 
supposition,  therefore,  the  mystery  is  not  less  astonishing  than  if  a child. 


MEMORY. 


263 


witli  a view  to  remind  my  readers  of  this  consideration,  that, 
finding  it  impossible  to  lay  aside  completely  metaphorical  or 


without  any  instructions,  were  to  read  a hook,  the  first  time  it  was  put  into 
his  hands,  with  a full  comprehension  of  the  author’s  meaning. 

But  what  I wish  chiefly  to  insist  on  at  present,  is  the  obviously  illogical 
inference  which  so  many  ingenious  men  seem  to  have  been  disposed  to 
draw  from  the  supposed  impressions  on  the  material  substance  of  the  brain, 
against  the  immateriaUty  of  that  being  (that  thinking  and  percipient  I) 
which  reads  and  interprets  these  impressions.  If  the  hypothesis  which 
forms  the  foundation  of  this  argument  be  true,  all  that  follows  from  it  is, 
that,  in  the  operations  of  perception  and  of  memory,  a process  is  carried 
on  by  the  mind  in  the  dark  recesses  of  the  brain,  analogous  to  what  takes 
place  when  it  reads,  by  the  intervention  of  the  eye,  the  characters  of  a book. 
The  question  (it  ought  always  to  be  remembered)  is  not  about  the  nature 
of  the  thing  read,  but  about  die  nature  of  the  reader.  In  the  case  of  the 
book,  no  one  thinks  of  identifying  the  reader’s  mind  with  the  texture  of  the 
paper,  or  with  the  chemical  composition  of  the  ink.  Why  then  should  it 
he  imagined,  that  any  step  is  made  towards  materialism  by  supposing  that 
an  invisible  book  exists  in  the  sensorium,  by  the  interpretation  of  which  we 
are  enabled  to  perceive  external  objects  ; and,  by  a reference  to  which,  we 
recover,  as  in  a tablet,  the  knowledge  which  has  happened  to  escape  from 
the  memory  1 

[To  the  hypothesis  that  memory  takes  place  through  the  impressions 
which  are  left  upon  the  brain.  Dr.  Reid  justly  objects,  “ that  there  is  no 
evidence  nor  probability  that  the  cause  assigned  does  exist ; that  is,  that 
the  impression  made  upon  the  brain  in  perception  remains  after  the  object  is 
removed.”  Still  further ; if  the  impression  be  the  cause  of  memory,  so 
long  as  the  cause  continues,  the  effect  ought  to  continue  also  ; that  is,  the 
idea  should  never  fade  or  disappear  from  the  mind,  but  the  memory,  or 
rather  the  perception,  should  be  continuous.  I saw  a particular  horse 
yesterday ; and  the  impression  made  upon  my  brain  by  that  perception, 
according  to  this  hypothesis,  is  the  cause  of  my  remembrance  of  that  horse. 
Then,  as  the  impression  left  upon  the  brain  must  have  lasted  through  the 
interval  from  yesterday  till  to-day,  I ought  never  to  have  forgotten  the 
horse,  but  the  idea  or  recollection  of  it  should  have  been  constantly  present 
to  my  mind.  It  should  have  been,  not  memory,  but  continuous  perception, 
though  growing  fainter  and  fainter  every  moment,  as  the  impression  was 
gradually  effaced.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  Some  accidental  circumstance 
may  suddenly  i-ecall  to  mind  a person  whom  I had  neither  seen  nor  thought 
of  for  many  years.  Where  was  the  impression  of  his  face  upon  my  brain 
during  these  intervening  years  1 If  it  remained  there,  why  did  I ever  for- 
get him  ? — why  did  I ever  cease  to  see  him  1] 


264 


MEMORY. 


aiiiilogical  words,  I liave  studied  to  avoid  such  an  uniformity  in 
the  employment  of  them,  as  iniglit  indicate  a preference  to  one 
theory  rather  than  another ; and,  hy  doing  so,  have  perhaps 
sometimes  been  led  to  vary  the  metaphor  oftener  and  more  sud- 
denly, than  would  be  proper  in  a composition  which  aimed  at 
any  degree  of  elegance.  This  caution  in  the  use  of  the  common 
language  concerning  Memory,  it  seemed  to  me  the  more  neces- 
sary to  attend  to,  that  the  general  disposition  which  every  per- 
son feels  at  the  commencement  of  his  philosophical  pursuits,  to 
explain  the  phenomena  of  thought  by  the  laws  of  matter,  is,  in 
the  case  of  this  particular  faculty,  encouraged  by  a variety  of 
peculiar  circumstances.  The  analogy  between  committing  a 
thing  to  Memory  that  we  wish  to  remember,  and  engraving  on 
a tablet  a fact  that  we  wish  to  record,  is  so  striking  as  to  present 
itself  even  to  the  vulgar ; nor  is  it  perhaps  less  natural  to  in- 
dulge the  fancy  in  considering  Memory  as  a sort  of  repository, 
in  udiich  we  arrange  and  preserve  for  future  use  the  materials 
of  our  information.  The  immediate  dependence,  too,  of  this 
faculty  on  the  state  of  the  body,  which  is  more  remarkable  than 
that  of  any  other  faculty  whatever,  (as  ai^pears  from  the 
effects  produced  on  it  by  old  age,  disease,  and  intoxication,)  is 
apt  to  strike  those  who  have  not  been  much  conversant  with 
these  inquiries,  as  bestowing  some  plausibility  on  the  theory 
which  attempts  to  explain  its  phenomena  on  mechanical  prin- 
ciples. 

Effects  of  disease  and  old  age  on  Memory.  — I cannot  help 
taking  this  opportunity  of  expressing  a wish,  that  medical 
writers  would  be  at  more  pains  than  they  have  been  at  hitherto, 
to  ascertain  the  various  effects  which  are  j^roduced  on  the  Mem- 
ory by  disease  and  old  age.  These  effects  are  widely  diversified 
in  different  cases.  In  some,  it  would  seem  that  the  Memory  is 
impaired  in  consequence  of  a diminution  of  the  power  of  atten- 
tion ; in  others,  that  the  jiower  of  recollection  is  disturbed  in 
consequence  of  a derangement  of  that  part  of  the  constitution 
on  which  the  association  of  ideas  depends.  The  decay  of  Mem- 
ory, which  is  the  common  effect  of  age,  seems  to  arise  from  the 
former  of  these  causes.  It  is  probable,  that,  as  we  advance  in 


MEMORY. 


265 


years,  the  capacity  of  attention  is  weakened  by  some  physical 
change  in  the  constitution ; but  it  is  also  reasonable  to  think,  that 
it  loses  its  vigor  partly  from  the  effect  which  the  decay  of  our 
sensibility  and  the  extinction  of  our  passions  have,  in  dimin- 
ishing the  interest  which  we  feel  in  the  common  occurrences  of 
life.  That  no  derangement  takes  place,  in  ordinary  cases,  in 
that  part  of  the  constitution  on  which  the  association  of  ideas 
depends,  appears  from  the  distinct  and  circumstantial  recollec- 
tion which  old  men  retain  of  the  transactions  of  their  youth.* 
In  some  diseases,  this  part  of  the  constitution  is  evidently 
affected.  A stroke  of'  the  palsy  has  been  known,  while  it  did 
not  destroy  the  power  of  speech,  to  render  the  patient  incapable 
of  recollecting  the  names  of  the  most  familiar  objects.  What  is 
still  more  remarkable,  the  name  of  an  object  has  been  known  to 
suggest  the  idea  of  it  as  formerly,  although  the  sight  of  the 
object  ceased  to  suggest  the  name.  Something  similar  to  this 
last  fact  (it  may  not  be  improper  here  to  remark)  occurs  in  an 
inferior  degree,  in  the  case  of  most  old  men,  even  when  they 
do  not  labor  under  any  specific  disease.  When  the  faculty  of 
Memory  begins  to  decline,  the  first  symptom  of  its  failure  is,  in 
oi’dinary  cases,  a want  of  recollection  of  words  ; first,  of  proper 
names  and  dates,  and  afterwards,  of  words  in  general.  The 
transition  from  the  sign  to  the  thing  signified  seems,  in  every 
case,  easier  than  from  the  thing  signified  to  the  sign  ; and  hence 
it  is,  that  many  persons  who  are  able  to  read  a foreign  language 


* S'wift  somewhere  expresses  his  surprise,  that  old  men  should  remem- 
ber their  anecdotes  so  distinctly,  and  should,  notwithstanding,  have  so 
little  memory  as  to  tell  the  same  story  twice  in  the  course  of  the  same  con- 
versation ; and  a similar  remark  is  made  by  Montaigne,  in  one  of  his 
Essays. 

The  fact  seems  to  be,  that  all  their  old  ideas  remain  in  the  mind,  con- 
nected as  formerly  by  the  different  associating  principles  ; but  that  the 
power  of  attention  to  new  ideas  and  new  occurrences  is  impaired. 

Instances  of  this  are  so  common,  that  there  can  be  no  dispute  about  the 
fact.  At  the  same  time,  I agree  with  Dr.  Hartley  in  thinking,  that  old  men 
do  not  always  recollect  the  events  of  their  youth  so  distinctly  as  we  might 
at  first  conclude  from  their  narratives  ; and  that  it  is  rather  their  own  narrow 
lives  that  they  remember,  than  the  events  to  which  they  relate. 

23 


266 


MEMORY. 


with  ease,  are  perfectly  unable  to  express  themselves  in  that 
language  in  conversation^  or  even  in  writing.  Of  this  fact,  some 
explanation  may  be  given,  without  having  recourse  to  any 
physiological  consideration ; for  we  are  accustomed  to  pass  from 
the  sign  to  the  thing  signified  every  time  we  read  a book,  or 
listen  to  the  conversation  of  another  person  ; whereas  we  pass 
from  the  thing  signified  to  the  sign,  only  when  we  have  occasion 
to  communicate  our  own  ideas  to  others : And  cases  of  this  last 
sort  bear  (it  is  evident)  no  proportion,  in  point  of  number,  to 
the  former.  With  respect  to  our  peculiar  tendency  to  forget 
■proper  names,  when  the  memory  begins  to  be  impaired,  the  fact 
seems  to  be  owing:  1.  To  the  firmer  hold  which  general  words 
take  of  the  mind,  in  consequence  of  their  smaller  number: 
2.  To  the  exercise  which  our  recollection  of  general  words  is 
constantly  receiving  in  the  course  of  our  solitary  speculation ; 
for  (as  was  formerly  shown)  we  can  carry  on  general  reasonings 
by  means  of  language  only ; whereas,  when  we  speculate  con- 
cerning individuals,  we  frequently  fix  our  thoughts  on  the  object 
itself,  without  thinking  of  the  name.* 


* “ Slight  paralytic  alFections  of  the  organs  of  speech  sometimes  occur 
without  any  correspondent  disorder  in  other  parts  of  the  body.  In  such 
cases,  the  tongue  appears  to  the  patient  too  large  for  his  mouth, — the 
saliva  flows  more  copiously  than  usual,  — and  the  vibratory  power  of  the 
glottis  is  somewhat  impaired.  Hence  the  effort  to  speak  succeeds  the  vo- 
lition of  the  mind  slowly  and  imperfectly,  and  the  words  are  uttered  witli 
faltering  and  hesitation.  These  are  facts  of  common  notoriety  ; but  I have 
never  seen  it  remarked,  that  in  this  local  palsy,  the  pronunciation  of 
PROPER  NAMES  is  attended  with  peculiar  difficulty,  and  that  the  recollection 
of  them  becomes  either  very  obscure,  or  entirely  obliterated ; whilst  that  of 
persons,  places,  tilings,  and  even  of  abstract  ideas,  remains  unchanged. 
Such  a partial  defect  of  memory,  of  which  experience  has  furnished  me 
with  several  examples,  confirms  the  theory  of  association,  and  at  the  same 
time  admits  of  an  easy  solution  by  it.  For  as  words  are  arbitrary  marks, 
and  owe  their  connection  with  what  they  import  to  established  usage,  the 
strength  of  this  connection  will  be  exactly  proportioned  to  the  frequency 
of  their  recurrence  ; and  this  recurrence  must  be  much  more  frequent  with 
generic  than  with  specific  terms.  Now,  proper  names  are  of  the  latter 
class ; and  the  idea  of  a person  or  place  may  remain  vivid  in  the  mind, 
with  )ut  the  least  signature  of  the  appellative  which  distinguishes  each  of 


MEMORY 


267 


I shall  only  add  further  on  this  head,  that,  as  far  as  my  own 
personal  observations  have  extended,  the  forgetfulness  of  proper 
names  incident  to  old  men,  is  chiefly  observable  in  men  of 
science,  or  in  those  who  are  habitually  occupied  with  important 
affairs ; and  this,  I apprehend,  is  what  might  reasonably  have 
been  expected  a •priori;  partly  from  their  habits  of  general 
thought,  and  partly  from  their  want  of  constant  practice  in  that 
trivial  conversation  which  is  every  moment  recalling  particulars 
to  the  mind. 

In  endeavoring  thus  to  account,  from  the  general  laws  of  our 
constitution,  for  ^ome  of  the  phenomena  which  are  commonly 
referred  immediately  to  physical  changes  in  the  hrain,  I would 
not  be  understood  to  deny,  that  age  often  affects  the  memoiy 
through  the  medium  of  the  body.  This,  indeed,  is  one  of  those 
melancholy  truths  to  which  every  day’s  experience  bears  wit- 
ness. It  is  beautifully  and  pathetically  stated  by  Locke  in  the 
following  words  : “ The  pictures  drawn  in  our  minds  are  laid  in 
fading  colors,  and,  if  not  sometimes  refreshed,  vani^  and  dis- 
appear. Thus  the  ideas,  as  well  as  children,  of  our  youth,  often 
die  before  us ; and  our  minds  represent  to  us  those  tombs  to 
which  we  are  approaching  ; where,  though  the  brass  and  marble 
remain,  yet  the  inscriptions  are  effaced  by  time,  and  the  imagery 
moulders  away.” *  * 

them.  It  is  certain,  also,  that  we  often  think  in  words  ; and  there  is  prob- 
ably, at  such  times,  some  slight  impulse  on  the  organs  of  speech,  analogous 
to  what  is  perceived  when  a musical  note  or  ttine  is  called  to  mind.  But  a 
lesion  of  the  power  of  utterance  may  break  a link  in  the  chain  of  associ- 
ation, and  thus  add  to  the  partial  defect  of  memory  now  under  consider- 
ation.”— (Percival’s  Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  73.) 

* In  ordinary  cases,  I confess,  I strongly  suspect  that  the  physical  effects 
of  old  age  on  this  part  of  our  constitution  are  not  so  great  as  is  commonly 
imagined ; and  that  much  of  what  is  generally  imputed  to  advanced  years, 
may  be  fairly  ascribed  to  a disuse  of  the  faculty,  occasioned  by  a premature 
retreat  from  the  business  of  the  world.  One  thing  is  certain  (as  Cicero 
has  remarked)  that  those  old  men  who  have  force  of  mind  to  keep  up  their 
habits  of  activity  to  the  last,  are,  in  most  cases,  distinguished  by  a strength 
of  memory  unusual  at  their  years  ; to  which  I may  add,  that  this  faculty, 
after  a temporary  decline,  frequently  recovers  agreat  deal  of  its  former  vigor. 

“ I never  yet  heard  of  any  old  man,”  says  Cicero,  in  the  character  of 


268 


MEMORY. 


The  decay  of  Memory  may  he  averted  or  postponed  hy  our  own 
efforts.  — In  so  far  as  this  decay  of  Memory  which  old  age 
brings  along  with  it,  is  a necessary  consequence  of  a physical 
change  in  the  constitution,  or  a necessary  consequence  of  a 
diminution  of  sensibility,  it  is  the  part  of  a wise  man  to  submit 
cheerfully  to  the  lot  of  his  nature.  But  it  is  not  unreasonable 
to  think,  that  something  may  he  done  by  our  own  efforts,  to 
obviate  the  inconveniences  which  commonly  result  from  it.  If 
individuals,  who,  in  the  early  part  of  life,  have  weak  memories, 
are  sometimes  able  to  remedy  this  defect,  by  a greater  attention 
to  ai’rangement  in  their  transactions,  and  to  classification  among 
their  ideas,  than  is  necessary  to  the  bulk  of  mankind,  might  it 
not  be  possible,  in  the  same  way,  to  ward  off,  at  least  to  a 
certain  degree,  the  encroachments  which  time  makes  on  this 
faculty  ? The  few  old  men  who  continue  in  the  active  scenes 
of  life  to  the  last  moment,  it  has  been  often  remarked,  complain, 
in  genera],  much  less  of  a want  of  recollection  than  their  con- 
temporarily. This  is  undoubtedly  owing,  partly,  to  the  effect 
which  the  pursuits  of  business  must  necessarily  have,  in  keep- 
ing alive  the  power  of  attention.  But  it  is  probably  owing  also 
to  new  habits  of  arrangement,  which  the  mind  gradually  and 
insensibly  forms,  from  the  experience  of  its  growing  infirmities. 
The  apparent  revival  of  Memory  in  old  men,  after  a temporary 
decline,  which  is  a case  that  happens  not  unfrequently,  seems  to 
favor  this  supposition. 


Cato,  “ whose  memory  was  so  weakened  by  time,  as  to  forget  where  he  had 
concealed  his  treasure.  The  aged  seem,  indeed,  to  be  at  no  loss  in  re- 
membering whatever  is  the  principal  object  of  their  attention  ; and  few 
there  are  at  that  period  of  life  who  cannot  tell  what  recognizances  they 
have  entered  into,  or  with  whom  they  have  had  any  pecuniary  transac- 
tions. Innumerable  instances  of  a strong  memory  in  advanced  years 
might  be  produced  from  among  our  celebrated  lawyers,  pontiffs,  augurs, 
and  philosophers  ; for  the  faculties  of  the  mind  will  preserve  their  powers 
in  old  age,  unless  they  arc  suffered  to  lose  their  energy,  and  become  languid 
for  want  of  due  cultivation.” 

“ The  mind  and  body  equally  thrive  by  a suitable  exertion  of  their 

powers,  with  this  difference,  however,  that  bodily  exercise  ends  in  fatigue, 
whereas  the  mind  is  never  wearied  in  its  activity.  When  Caecilius  there- 


MEMORY. 


269 


One  old  man,  I haye,  myself,  had  the  good  fortune  to  know, 
who,  after  a long,  an  active,  and  an  honorable  life,  having  begun 
to  feel  some  of  the  usual  effects  of  advanced  years,  has  been 
able  to  find  resources  in  his  own  sagacity,  against  most  of  the 
inconveniences  with  which  they  are  commonly  attended ; and 
who,  by  watching  his  gradual  decline  with  the  cool  eye  of  an 
indifferent  ohservei’,  and  employing  his  ingenuity  to  retard  its 
progress,  has  converted  even  the  infirmities  of  age  into  a source 
of  philosophical  amusement. 

II.  Of  the  varieties  of  Memory  in  different  individuals.  — It 
is  generally  supposed,  that,  of  all  our  faculties.  Memory  is  that 
which  nature  has  bestowed  in  the  most  unequal  degrees  on  dif- 
ferent individuals  ; and  it  is  far  from  being  impossible,  that  this 
opinion  may  be  well  founded.  If,  however,  we  consider,  that 
there  is  scarcely  any  man  who  has  not  Memory  sufficient  to 
learn  the  use  of  language,  and  to  learn  to  recognize,  at  the  first 
glance,  the  appearances  of  an  infinite  number  of  familiar  objects ; 
besides  acquiring  such  an  acquaintance  with  the  laws  of  nature, 
and  the  ordinary  course  of  human  affairs,  as  is  necessary  for 
directing  his  conduct  in  life  ; we  shall  be  satisfied  that  the  origi- 
nal disparities  among  men,  in  this  respect,  are  by  no  means  so 
immense  as  they  seem  to  be  at  first  view ; and  that  much  is  to 
be  ascribed  to  different  habits  of  attention,  and  to  a difierence 


fore  represents  certain  veterans  as  fit  subjects  for  the  Comic  Muse,  he  al- 
ludes only  to  those  weak  and  credulous  dotards,  whose  infirmities  of  mind 
are  not  so  much  the  natural  effects  of  their  years,  as  the  consequence  of 
suffering  their  faculties  to  lie  doi-mant  and  unexerted  in  a slothful  and 
spiritless  inactivity.”  — Melmoih’s  Translation  of  Cicero  on  Old  Age. 

Among  the  practices  to  which  Cato  had  recourse  for  exercising  his 
memory,  he  mentions  his  observance  of  the  Pythagorean  rule,  in  recalling 
every  night,  all  that  he  had  said,  or  done,  or  heai'd  the  preceding  day  : — ■ 
And,  perliaps,  few  rules  could  be  prescribed  of  greater  efficacy  for  fixing 
in  the  mind  the  various  ideas  wliich  pass  under  its  review,  or  for  giving  it 
a ready  and  practical  command  of  them.  Indeed,  this  habit  of  frequently 
reviewing  the  information  we  possess,  either  in  our  solitary  meditations,  or 
(which  is  still  better)  in  our  conversations  with  others,  is  the  most  effectual 
of  all  the  helps  to  memory  that  can  possibly  be  suggested.  But  these 
remarks  properly  belong  to  another  branch  of  our  subject. 

23  » 


270 


MEMORY. 


of  selection  among  tlie  vai’ious  objects  and  events  presented  to 
their  curiosity. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  also,  that  those  individuals  who  pos- 
sess unusual  powers  of  Memory  with  respect  to  any  one  class  of 
objects,  are  commonly  as  remarkably  deficient  in  some  of  the 
other  applications  of  that  faculty.  I knew  a person  who,  though 
completely  ignorant  of  Latin,  was  able  to  repeat  over  thirty  or 
forty  lines  of  Virgil,  after  having  heard  them  once  read  to 
him,  — not  indeed  with  perfect  exactness,  but  with  such  a degree 
of  resemblance  as  (all  circumstances  considered)  was  truly 
astonishing ; yet  this  person  (who  was  in  the  condition  of  a 
servant)  was  singularly  deficient  in  Memory  in  all  cases  in 
Arhich  that  faculty  is  of  real  practical  utility.  He  was  noted  in 
every  family  in  which  he  had  been  employed  for  habits  of  for- 
getfulness ; and  conld  scarcely  deliver  an  ordinary  message 
withont  committing  some  blunder. 

A similar  observation,  I can  almost  venture  to  say,  will  be 
found  to  apply  to  by  far  the  greater  nnmber  of  those  in  whom 
this  faculty  seems  to  exhibit  a preternatural  or  anomalous  degree 
of  force.  The  varieties  of  memory  are  indeed  Avonderful ; but 
they  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  inequalities  of  memory. 
One  man  is  distinguished  by  a power  of  recollecting  names,  and 
dates,  and  genealogies ; a second,  by  the  multiplicity  of  specula- 
tions, and  of  general  conclusions,  treasured  up  in  his  intellect ; 
a third,  by  the  facility  with  Avhich  words  and  combinations  of 
Avords  (the  ipsissinia  verba  of  a speaker  or  of  an  author)  seem 
to  lay  hold  of  his  mind  ; a fourth,. by  the  quickness  with  which 
he  seizes  and  appropriates  the  sense  and  meaning  of  an  author, 
Avhile  the  phraseology  and  style  seem  altogether  to  escape  his 
notice  ; a fifth,  by  his  Memory  for  poetry ; a sixth,  by  his  Memory 
for  music ; a seventh,  by  his  Memory  for  architecture,  statuary, 
and  painting,  and  all  the  other  objects  of  taste  which  are  addressed 
to  the  eye.  All  these  different  powers  seem  miraculous  to  those 
who  do  not  possess  them ; and,  as  they  are  apt  to  be  supposed, 
by  superficial  observers,  to  be  commonly  united  in  the  same 
individuals,  they  contribute  much  to  encourage  those  exaggerated 
estimates  concerning  the  original  inequalities  among  men  in 


MEMORY. 


271 


respect  to  this  faculty,  which  I am  now  endeavoring  to  reduce 
to  their  just  standard. 

The  characteristics  of  a good  Memory.  — As  the  great  purpose 
to  which  this  faculty  is  subservient,  is  to  enable  us  to  collect,  and 
to  retain,  for  the  future  regulation  of  our  conduct,  the  results  of 
our  past  experience ; it  is  evident  that  the  degree  of  perfection 
which  it  attains  in  the  case  of  different  persons,  must  vary, 
first,  with  the  facility  of  making  the  original  acquisition ; 
secondly,  with  the  permanence  of  the  acquisition ; and  thirdly, 
with  the  quickness  or  readiness  with  which  the  individual  is 
able,  on  particular  occasions,  to  apply  it  to  use.  The  qualities 
therefore,  of  a good  Memory  are,  in  the  first  place,  to  be  sus- 
ceptible  ; secondly,  to  be  retentive  ; and  thirdly,  to  be  ready. 

It  is  but  rarely  that  these  three  qualities  are  united  in  the 
same  person.  We  often,  indeed,  meet  with  a Memory  which  is 
at  once  susceptible  and  ready  ; but  I doubt  much,  if  such  memo- 
ries be  commonly  very  retentive.  For  the  same  set  of  habits 
which  are  favorable  to  the  two  first  qualities,  are  adverse  to  the 
third.  Those  individuals,  for  example,  who,  with  a view  to 
conversation,  make  a constant  business  of  informing  themselves 
with  respect  to  the  popular  topics  of  the  day,  or  of  turning 
over  the  ephemeral  publications  subservient  to  the  amusement 
or  to  the  politics  of  the  times,  are  naturally  led  to  cultivate  a 
susceptibility  and  readiness  of  memory,  but  have  no  inducement 
to  aim  at  that  permanent  retention  of  selected  ideas,  which  enables 
the  scientific  student  to  combine  the  most  remote  materials,  and 
to  concentrate,  at  will,  on  a particular  object,  all  the  scattered 
lights  of  his  experience,  and  of  his  refiections.  Such  men  (as 
far  as  my  observation  has  reached)  seldom  possess  a familiar  or 
correct  acquaintance  even  with  those  classical  remains  of  our 
own  earlier  writers,  which  have  ceased  to  furnish  topics  of  dis- 
course to  the  circles  of  fashion.  A stream  of  novelties  is  per- 
petually passing  through  their  minds ; and  the  faint  impressions 
which  it  leaves,  soon  vanish  to  make  way  for  others,  — hke  the 
traces  which  the  ebbing  tide  leaves  upon  the  sand.  Nor  is  this 
all.  In  proportion  as  the  associating  principles  which  lay  the 
foundation  of  susceptibility  and  readiness  predominate  in  the 


272 


MEMORY.  ■ 


Memory,  those  which  form  the  basis  of  our  more  solid  and  last- 
ing acquisitions  may  be  expected  to  be  weakened,  as  a natural 
consequence  of  the  general  laws  of  our  intellectual  frame.  This 
last  observation  it  will  ho  necessary  to ' illustrate  more  particu- 
larly. 

Various  modes  of  association  in  different  minds.  — I have 
already  remarked,  in  treating  of  a different  subject,  that  the 
hulk  of  mankind,  being  but  little  accustomed  to  reflect  and  to 
generalize,  associate  their  ideas  chiefly  according  to  their  more 
obvious  relations ; those,  for  example,  of  resemblance  and  of 
analogy  ; and  above  all,  according  to  the  casual  relations  arising 
from  contiguity  in  time  and  place ; whereas,  in  the  mind  of  a 
philosopher,  ideas  are  commonly  associated  according  to  those 
relations  which  are  brought  to  hght  in  consequence  of  particular 
efforts  of  attention ; such  as  the  relations  of  cause  and  effect,  or 
of  premises  and  conclusion.  This  difference  in  the  modes  of 
association  of  these  two  classes  of  men,  is  the  foundation  of 
some  very  striking  diversities  between  them  in  respect  of  intel- 
lectual character. 

Differences  of  Memory  between  philosophers  and  the  vulgar.  — 
In  the  first  place,  in  consequence  of  the  nature  of  the  relations 
which  connect  ideas  together  in  the  mind  of  the  philosopher,  it 
must  necessarily  happen,  that  when  he  has  occasion  to  apply  to 
use  his  acquired  knowledge,  time  and  reflection  will  be  requisite 
to  enable  him  to  recollect  it.  In  the  case  of  those,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to  scientific  pursuits,  as 
their  ideas  are  connected  together  according  to  the  most  obvious 
relations,  when  any  one  idea  of  a class  is  presented  to  the  mind, 
it  is  immediately  followed  by  the  others,  which  succeed  each 
other  spontaneously,  according  to  the  laws  of  association.  In 
managing,  therefore,  the  little  details  of  some  subaltern  employ- 
ment, in  which  all  that  is  required  is  knowledge  of  forms,  and 
a disposition  to  observe  them,  the  want  of  a systematical  genius 
is  an  important  advantage ; because  this  want  renders  the  mind 
peculiarly  susceptible  of  habits,  and  allows  the  train  of  its  ideas 
to  accommodate  itself  perfectly  to  the  daily  and  hourly  oc- 
currences of  its  situation.  But  if,  in  this  respect,  men  of  n«i 


MEMORY. 


273 


general  principles  have  an  advantage  over  the  philosopher,  they 
fall  greatly  below  him  in  another  point  of  view ; inasmuch  as 
all  the  information  which  they  possess,  must  necessarily  be 
limited  by  their  own  proper  experience ; whereas  the  philoso- 
pher, who  is  accustomed  to  refer  every  thing  to  general  princi- 
ples, is  not  only  enabled,  by  means  of  these,  to  arrange  the  facts 
which  experience  has  taught  him,  but  by  reasoning  from  his 
principles  synthetically,  has  it  often  in  his  power  to  determme 
facts  a 'priori,  which  he  has  no  opportunity  of  ascertaining  by 
observation. 

It  follows  further,  from  the  foregoing  principles,  that  the  intel- 
lectual defects  of  the  philosopher,  are  of  a much  more  corrigible 
nature,  than  those  of  the  mere  man  of  detail.  If  the  former  is 
thrown  by  accident  into  a scene  of  business,  more  time  will  per- 
haps be  necessary  to  qualify  him  for  it,  than  would  be  requisite 
for  the  generality  of  mankind ; but  time  and  experience  wiU 
infallibly,  sooner  or  later,  familiarize  his  mind  completely  with 
his  situation.  A capacity  for  system  and  for  philosophical 
arrangement,  unless  it  has  been  carefully  cultivated  in  early  life, 
is  an  acquisition  which  can  scarcely  be  made  afterwards ; and, 
therefore,  the  defects  which  I already  mentioned,  as  connected 
with  early  and  constant  habits  of  business,  adopted  from  imita- 
tion, and  undirected  by  theory,  may,  when  once  these  habits 
are  confirmed,  be  pronounced  to  be  incurable. 

How  to  retain  hno'wledge  permanently.  — I am  also  inclined 
to  believe,  both  from  a theoretical  view  of  the  subject,  and  from 
my  o^vn  observations,  as  far  as  they  have  reached,  that  if  we 
wish  to  fix  the  particulars  of  our  knowledge  very  permanently 
in  the  Memory,  the  most  effectual  way  of  doing  it,  is  to  refei 
them  to  general  principles.  Ideas  which  are  connected  together 
merely  by  casual  relations,  present  themselves  with  readiness 
to  the  mind,  so  long  as  we  are  forced  by  the  habits  of  our 
situation  to  apply  them  daily  to  use ; but  when  a change  of  cir- 
cumstances lead  us  to  vary  the  objects  of  our  attention,  we  find 
our  old  ideas  gradually  to  escape  from  the  recollection  ; and  if 
it  should  happen  that  they  escape  from  it  altogether,  the  only 
method  of  recovering  them,  is  by  renewing  those  studies  by 


274 


MEMOKT. 


wliicli  they  were  at  first  acquired.  The  case  is  very  different 
with  a man  whose  ideas,  presented  to  him  at  first  by  accident, 
have  been  afterwards  philosophically  arranged  and  referred  to 
general  principles.  When  he  wishes  to  recollect  them,  some 
time  and  reflection  will,  frequently,  be  necessary  to  enable  him 
to  do  so ; but  the  information  which  he  has  once  completely 
acquired,  continues,  in  general,  to  be  an  acquisition  for  life ; or 
if,  accidentally,  any  article  of  it  should  be  lost,  it  may  often  be 
recovered  by  a process  of  reasoning. 

A language  caught  by  the  ear  is  generally  spoken  with  more 
of  the  ease  of  a native  than  if  it  had  been  learned  by  rule  ; but, 
in  the  course  of  a few  years,  it  is  often  as  completely  obliterated 
from  the  memory  as  if  it  had  never  been  acquired.  It  is  only 
by  a complete  possession  of  the  principles  of  a language,  that 
we  can  hope  to  make  it  an  acquisition  for  life.  We  may  see 
this  daily  illustrated,  in  the  uncertain  hold  which  gix-ls  commonly 
retain  of  the  French  acquired  at  boarding-schools,  when  com- 
pared with  the  permanent  acquaintance  with  Latin  which  boys 
receive  from  a regular  classical  education.  Few  boys,  however 
well  educated,  read  and  speak  Latin  with  the  same  facility  and 
fluency  with  which  we  daily  see  young  ladies  read  and  speak 
French  ; yet  how  seldom  do  they  ever  lose  afterwards  a com- 
petent knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue ! 

A philosophical  arrangement  of  our  ideas  is  attended  with 
another  very  important  advantage.  In  a mind  where  the  pre- 
vailing principles  of  association  are  founded  on  casual  relations 
among  the  various  objects  of  its  knowledge,  the  thoughts  must 
necessarily  succeed  each  other  in  a very  irregular  and  disorderly 
manner,  and  the  occasions  on  which  they  present  themselves 
will  be  determined  merely  by  accident.  They  will  often  occur 
when  they  cannot  be  employed  to  any  purpose,  and  will  remain 
concealed  from  our  view  when  the  recollection  of  them  might 
be  useful.  They  cannot,  therefore,  be  considered  as  under  our 
own  proper  command.  But  in  the  case  of  a philosopher,  how 
slow  soever  he  may  be  in  the  recollection  of  his  ideas,  he  knows 
always  where  he  is  to  search  for  them,  so  as  to  bring  them  all 
to  bear  on  their  proper  object.  When  he  wishes  to  avail  him- 


MEMORY. 


275 


self  of  his  past  experience,  or  of  his  former  conclusions,  the 
occasion  itself  summons  up  every  thought  in  his  mind  which  the 
occasion  requires.  Or  if  he  is  called  upon  to  exert  his  powers 
of  invention  and  of  discovery,  the  materials  of  both  are  always 
at  hand,  and  are  presented  to  his  view  with  such  a degree  of 
connection  and  arrangement  as  may  enable  him  to  trace  with 
ease  their  various  relations.  How  much  invention  depends  upon 
a patient  and  attentive  examination  of  our  ideas  in  order  to  dis- 
cover the  less  obvious  relations  which  subsist  among  them,  I 
had  occasion  to  show  at  some  length  in  a former  chapter.* 

Why  philosophers  do  not  excel  in  conversation.  — The  remarks 
which  have  been  now  made  are  suflacient  to  illustrate  the  ad- 
vantages which  the  philosopher  derives  in  the  pursuits  of  science 
from  that  sort  of  systematical  Memory  which  his  habits  of  ar- 
rangement give  him.  It  may,  however,  be  doubted  whether 
such  habits  be  equally  favorable  to  a talent  for  agreeable  con- 
versation, at  least  for  that  lively,  varied  conversation,  which 
forms  the  principal  charm  of  a promiscuous  society.  The  con- 
versation which  pleases  generally,  must  unite  the  recommenda- 
tions of  quickness,  of  ease,  and  of  variety ; and  in  all  these  three 
respects,  that  of  the  philosopher  is  apt  to  be  deficient.  It  is  de- 
ficient in  quickness,  because  his  ideas  are  connected  by  relations 
which  occur  only  to  an  attentive  and  collected  mind.  It  is  de- 
ficient in  ease,  because  these  relations  are  not  the  casual  and 
obvious  ones  by  which  ideas  are  associated  in  ordinary  memories, 
but  the  slow  discoveries  of  patient,  and  often  painful,  exertion. 
As  the  ideas,  too,  which  he  associates  together,  are  commonly  of 
the  same  class,  or  at  least  are  referred  to  the  same  general  prin- 
ciples, he  is  in  danger  of  becoming  tedious,  by  indulging  himself 


* The  practice  which  literary  men  in  general  have  of  committing  to 
writing  the  knowledge  they  acquire,  together  with  the  ready  access  which 
all  ranks  have  now  to  the  use  of  books,  has  a tendency  to  weaken  the 
faculty  of  memory,  by  superseding  the  necessity  of  its  more  extraordinary 
exertions.  It  was  on  this  principle  that  the  Druids  (as  we  are  informed  by 
Caesar  in  his  Commentaries),  although  they  knew  the  Greek  letters,  ab- 
stained from  the  use  of  writing  in  recording  their  theological  and  philo- 
sophical doctrines. 


276 


MEMOKT. 


in  long  and  systematical  discourses  ; while  another,  possessed  of 
the  most  inferior  accomplishments,  by  laying  his  mind  completely 
open  to  impressions  from  without,  and  by  accommodating  con- 
tinually the  course  of  his  own  ideas,  not  only  to  the  ideas  which 
are  stated  by  his  companions,  but  to  every  trifling  and  un- 
expected accident  that  may  occur  to  give  them  a new  direction, 
is  the  life  and  soul  of  every  society  into  which  he  enters.  Even 
the  anecdotes  which  the  philosopher  has  collected,  however 
agreeable  they  may  be  in  themselves,  are  seldom  introduced  by 
him  into  conversation  with  that  unstudied  but  happy  propriety 
which  we  admire  in  men  of  the  world,  whose  facts  are  not 
referred  to  general  principles,  but  are  suggested  to  their  recol- 
lection by  the  familiar  topics  and  occurrences  of  ordinary  life. 
Nor  is  it  the  imputation  of  tediousness  merely,  to  which  the 
systematical  thinker  must  submit  from  common  observers.  It 
is  but  rarely  possible  to  explain  completely,  in  a promiscuous 
society,  all  the  various  jiarts  of  the  most  simple  theory ; and,  as 
nothing  appears  weaker  or  more  absurd  than  a theory  which  is 
partially  stated,  it  frequently  happens  that  men  of  ingenuity,  by 
attempting  it,  sink,  in  the  vulgar  apprehension,  below  the  level 
of  ordinary  understandings.  “ Theoriarum  vires,”  says  Lord 
Bacon,  “ in  apta  et  se  mutuo  sustinente  partium  harmonia  et 
quadam  in  orbem  demonstratione  consistunt,  ideoque  jmr  partes 
traditffi  infirm®  sunt.”  [The  excellence  of  theory  lies  in  the 
fitness  and  harmony  of  the  parts  mutually  sustaining  each  other ; 
so  that  a theory,  enunciated  piecemeal,  is  comparatively  weak.] 
Peculiarities  of  casual  Memory.  — Before  leaving  the  subject 
of  easual  Memory,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  add,  that  how 
much  soever  it  may  disqualify  for  systematical  speculation, 
there  is  a species  of  loose  and  rambling  composition  to  which  it 
is  peculiarly  favorable.  With  such  performances  it  is  often 
pleasant  to  unbend  the  mind  in  solitude,  when  we  are  more  in 
the  humor  for  conversation  than  for  connected  thinking. 
Montaigne  is  unquestionably  at  the  head  of  this  class  of 
authors.  “ What,  indeed,  are  his  essays,”  to  adopt  his  own  ac- 
count of  them,  “ but  grotesque  pieces  of  patchwork,  put  together 
without  any  certain  figure,  or  any  order,  connection,  or  pro- 
portion, but  what  is  accidental?  ” (Liv.  i.  chap.  27.) 


MEMORT. 


277 


It  is,  however,  curious,  that  in  consequence  of  the  predomi- 
nance in  his  mind  of  this  species  of  Memory  above  every  other, 
he  is  forced  to  acknowledge  his  total  want  of  that  command 
over  his  ideas  which  can  only  he  founded  on  habits  of  system- 
atical arrangement.  As  the  passage  is  extremely  character- 
istical  of  the  author,  and  affords  a striking  confirmation  of  some 
of  the  preceding  observations,  I shall  give  it  in  his  own  words. 
“ Je  ne  me  tiens  pas  bien  en  ma  possession  et  disposition : le 
hazard  y a plus  de  droit  que  moy  : I’occasion,  la  compagnie,  le 
branle  meme  de  ma  voix  tire  plus  de  mon  esprit,  que  je  n’y 
trouve  lorsque  je  sonde  et  employe  k part  moy.  Ceci  m’advient 
aussi,  que  je  ne  me  trouve  pas  oil  je  me  cherche ; et  me  trouve 
plus  par  rencontre,  que  par  I’inquisition  de  mon  jugemeut.”* 

The  differences  which  I have  now  pointed  out  between  philo- 
sophical and  casual  Memory,  constitute  the  most  remarkable  of 
all  the  varieties  which  the  minds  of  different  individuals,  con- 
sidered in  respect  to  this  faculty,  present  to  our  observation. 
But  there  are  other  varieties  of  a less  striking  nature,  the  con- 
sideration of  which  may  also  suggest  some  useful  reflections. 

Sights  rememhered  more  easily  than  sounds.  — It  was  before 
remarked,  that  our  ideas  are  frequently  associated  in  consequence 
of  the  associations  which  take  place  among  their  arbiti'ary  signs. 
Indeed,  in  the  case  of  all  our  general  speculations,  it  is  difficult 
to  see  in  what  other  way  our  thoughts  can  be  associated ; for  I 
before  endeavored  to  show,  that,  without  the  use  of  signs  of  one 
kind  or  another,  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  mal^e  classes, 
or  genera,  objects  of  our  attention. 

All  the  signs  by  which  our  thoughts  are  expressed  are  ad- 
dressed either  to  the  eye  or  to  the  ear ; and  the  impressions 


* [Montaigne’s  language  is  so  exquisitely  idiomatic,  that  a literal  version 
gives  hardly  a glimpse  of  his  meaning.  The  following  is  a mere  para- 
phrase of  the  passage  in  the  text. 

“ I do  not  have  full  possession  and  command  of  my  own  mind  ; chance 
has  more  power  over  it  than  I have ; occasion,  company,  even  the  sound 
of  my  own  voice,  draws  more  out  of  my  understanding  than  I can,  wlien  I 
probe  and  try  it  in  solitude.  This  also  happens  to  me,  that  I cannot  find 
ray  ideas  where  I look  for  them,  but  rather  stumble  upon  them  unawares.”] 

24 


278 


MEMORY. 


made  on  these  organs  at  the  time  when  we  first  receive  an  idea, 
contribute  to  give  us  a firmer  hold  of  it.  Visible  objects  (as  I 
observed  in  the  chapter  on  conception)  are  remembered  more 
easily  than  those  of  any  of  our  other  senses  ; and  hence  it  is, 
that  the  bulk  of  mankind  are  more  aided  in  their  recollection  by 
the  impressions  made  on  the  eye  than  by  those  on  the  ear.  Every 
person  must  have  remarked,  in  studying  the  elements  of  geom- 
etry, how  much  his  recollection  of  the  theorems  was  aided  by 
the  diagrams  which  are  connected  with  them ; and  I have  little 
doubt,  that  the  difficulty  which  students  commonly  find  to  re- 
member the  propositions  of  the  fifth  book  of  Euclid,  arises 
chiefly  from  this,  that  the  magnitudes  to  which  they  relate,  are 
represented  by  straight  lines,  which  do  not  make  so  strong  an 
impression  on  the  memory,  as  the  figures  which  illustrate  the 
projiositions  in  the  other  five  books. 

This  advantage,  which  the  objects  of  sight  naturally  have 
over  those  of  hearing,  in  tlie  distinctness  and  the  permanence  of 
the  impressions  which  they  make  on  the  Memory,  continues, 
and  even  increases,  through  life,  in  the  case  of  the  bulk  of  man- 
kind ; because  their  minds,  being  but  little  addicted  to  general 
and  abstract  disquisitions,  are  habitually  occupied,  either  with 
the  immediate  percei^tion  of  such  objects,  or  with  speculations 
in  which  the  conception  of  them  is  more  or  less  involved ; 
which  speculations,  so  far  as  they  relate  to  individual  things 
and  individual  events,  may  be  carried  on  with  little  or  no  assist- 
ance fi’om  language. 

The  case  is  different  with  the  philosopher,  whose  habits  of 
abstraction  and  generalization  lay  him  continually  under  a 
necessity  of  employing  words  as  an  instrument  of  thought. 
Such  habits,  cooperating  with  that  inattention  which  he  is  apt 
to  contoct  to  things  exteimal,  must  have  an  obvious  tendency 
to  weaken  the  original  powers  of  recollection  and  conception 
with  respect  to  visible  objects ; and  at  the  same  time,  to 
strengthen  the  power  of  retaining  propositions  and  reasonings 
expressed  in  language.  The  common  system  of  education,  too, 
by  exercising  the  Memory  so  much  in  the  acquisition  of  gram- 
mar rules,  and  of  passages  from  the  ancient  authors,  contributes 


MEMORY. 


279 


greatly,  in  the  case  of  men  of  letters,  to  cultivate  a capacity 
for  retaining  words. 

How  verbal  Memory  may  be  cultivated.  — It  is  surprising  of 
what  a degree  of  culture  our  power  of  retaining  a succession, 
even  of  insignificant  sounds,  is  susceptible.  Instances  some- 
times occur,  of  men  who  are  easily  able  to  commit  to  Memory  a 
long  poem,  composed  in  a language  of  which  they  are  wholly 
ignorant;  and  I have  myself  known  more  than  one  instance  of 
an  individual,  who,  after  having  forgotten  completely  the  classical 
studies  of  his  childhood,  was  yet  able  to  repeat  with  fiuency 
long  passages  from  Homer  and  Virgil,  without  annexing  an 
idea  to  the  words  that  he  uttered. 

This  susceptibility  of  Memory  with  respect  to  words,  is  pos- 
sessed by  aU  men  in  a very  remarkable  degree  in  their  early 
years,  and  is,  indeed,  necessary  to  enable  them  to  acquire  the 
use  of  language ; but  unless  it  be  carefully  cultivated  after- 
wai’ds  by  constant  exercise,  it  gradually  decays  as  we  advance 
to  maturity.  The  plan  of  education  which  is  followed  in  this 
country,  however  imperfect  in  many  respects,  falls  in  happily 
with  this  arrangement  of  nature,  and  stores  the  mind  richly, 
even  in  infancy,  with  intellectual  treasures,  which  are  to  remain 
with  it  through  life.  The  rules  of  grammar,  which  comprehend 
systems,  more  or  less  perfect,  of  the  principles  of  the  dead 
languages,  take  a permanent  hold  of  the  Memory,  when  the 
understanding  is  yet  unable  to  comprehend  their  import ; and 
the  classical  remains  of  antiquity,  which,  at  the  time  we  acquire 
them,  do  httle  more  than  furnish  a gratification  to  the  ear,  sup- 
ply us  with  inexhaustible  sources  of  the  most  refined  enjoyment ; 
and,  as  our  various  powers  gradually  unfold  themselves,  are 
poured  forth,  without  effort,  from  the  Memory,  to  delight  the 
imagination,  and  to  improve  the  heart.  It  cannot  be  doubted 
that  a great  variety  of  other  articles  of  useful  knowledge,  par- 
ticularly with  respect  to  geographical  and  chronological  details, 
might  be  communicated  with  advantage  to  children  in  the  form 
of  memorial  lines.  It  is  only  in  childhood  that  such  details 
can  be  learned  with  facility ; and  if  they  were  once  acquired 
and  rendered  perfectly  familiar  to  the  mind,  our  riper  years 


280 


MEMORY. 


would  be  spared  much  of  that  painful  and  uninteresting  labor, 
■which  is  perpetually  distracting  our  intellectual  powers  from 
those  more  important 'exertions  for  which,  in  their  mature  state, 
they  seem  to  be  destined. 

This  tendency  of  literary  habits  in  general,  and  more  par- 
ticularly of  philosophical  pursuits,  to  exercise  the  thoughts 
about  words,  can  scarcely  fail  to  have  some  effect  in  weakening 
the  powers  of  recollection  and  conception  with  respect  to  sensi- 
ble objects ; and,  in  fact,  I believe  it  will  be  found,  that  whatever 
advantage  the  iihilosopher  may  possess  over  men  of  little  edu- 
cation, in  stating  general  propositions  and  general  reasonings, 
he  is  commonly  inferior  to  them  in  point  of  minuteness  and 
accuracy,  when  he  attempts  to  describe  any  object  which  he  has 
seen,  or  any  event  which  he  has  witnessed;  supposing  the 
curiosity  of  both,  in  such  cases,  to  be  interested  in  an  equal 
degree.  I acknowledge,  indeed,  that  the  undivided  attention 
which  men  unaccustomed  to  reflection  are  able  to  give  to  the 
objects  of  their  perceptions,  is,  in  part,  the  cause  of  the  liveli- 
ness and  correctness  of  their  conceptions. 

Varieties  of  Memory  in  respect  to  technical  or  general  descrip- 
tion. — With  this  diversity  in  the  intellectual  habits  of  culti- 
vated and  of  uncultivated  minds,  there  is  another  variety  of 
Memory  which  seems  to  have  some  connection.  In  recognizing 
visible  objects,  the  Memory  of  one  man  proceeds  on  the  general 
appeax'ance ; that  of  another  attaches  itself  to  some  minute  and 
distinguishing  marks.  A peasant  knows  the  various  kinds  of 
trees  from  their  general  habits ; a botanist,  from  those  charac- 
teristical  circumstances  on  which  his  classification  proceeds. 
The  last  kind  of  Memory  is,  I think,  most  common  among 
literary  men,  and  arises  from  their  habit  of  recollecting  by 
means  of  words.  It  is  evidently  much  easier  to  express  by 
a description  a number  of  botanical  marks,  than  the  general 
habit  of  a tree ; and  the  same  remark  is  applicable  to  other 
cases  of  a similar  nature.  But  to  whatever  cause  we  ascribe 
it,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact,  that  many  individuals  are 
to  be  found,  and  chiefly  among  men  of  letters,  who,  although 
they  have  no  memory  for  the  general  appearances  of  objects. 


MEMORY. 


281 


aie  yet  able  to  retain  with  correctness  an  immense  number  of 
technical  discriminations. 

Each  of  these  kinds  of  Memory  has  its  peculiar  advantages 
and  inconveniences,  which  the  dread  of  being  tedious  induces 
me  to  leave  to  the  investigation  of  my  readers. 

Astonishing  feats  of  Memory.  — Among  the  extraordinary 
exertions  of  Memory  recorded  in  history,  it  is  worthy  of  ob- 
servation, that  many  of  them  (more  especially  of  those  M'hich 
are  handed  down  to  us  from  ancient  times)  relate  to  acquisitions 
of  the  most  trifling  nature ; or  at  least,  to  acquisitions  which,  in 
the  present  age,  would  be  understood  to  reflect  but  little  credit 
on  the  capacity  of  those  who  should  consider  the  possession  of 
them  as  a subject  of  vanity.  In  judging,  however,  of  such  par- 
ticulars, when  they  occur  in  the  lives  of  eminent  men,  due 
allowances  ought  always  to  be  made  for  the  essential  differences 
between  the  jjolitical  institutions  of"  the  old  world  and  those  of 
modern  Europe.  Thus,  when  we  are  told  of  Themlstocles,  that 
he  could  call  by  their  names  all  the  citizens  of  Athens  (whose 
number  was  20,000)  ; and  of  Cyrus,  that  he  knew  the  name  of 
every  soldier  in  his  army,  it  ought  to  be  recollected,  that  con- 
temptible as  these  acquisitions  might  now  appear  in  men  equally 
elevated  by  their  rank,  they  were  probably  not  altogether  use- 
less to  the  general  of  an  ancient  army,  or  to  the  chief  of  an 
ancient  republic.  The  different  state  of  manners  prior  to  the 
invention  of  printing,  and,  in  particular,  the  state  of  manners  in 
ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  rendered  the  cultivation  of  Memory 
an  object  of  far  greater  importance  to  those  who  were  destined 
for  public  life,  than  it  is  under  any  of  our  modern  governments ; 
and,  accordingly,  extraordinary  endowments  of  this  sort  form  a 
far  more  prominent  feature  in  the  characters  of  their  illustrious 
writers  and  statesmen  than  they'  do  in  modern  biogi’aphy. 
Examples  of  this  must  immediately  crowd  on  the  recollectioi. 
of  every  person  at  all  conversant  with  the  classics. 

The  facts  with  respect  to  Memory,  which  I have  chiefly  in 
my  eye  at  present,  may  be  divided  into  two  classes,  according  as 
they  relate  to  occasional  exertions  of  Memory  on  particular 
subjects,  or  to  the  general  mass  of  acquired  information  treas- 
24^ 


282 


MEMORY. 


ured  up  in  the  mind.  Of  the  first  kind  are  the  intellectual 
feats  ascribed  to  Cineas,  and  to  Hortensius.  Tlie  former  (we 
are  told)  when  he  came  to  Rome  as  ambassador  from  King 
Pyrrhus,  saluted,  on  the  day  after  his  an'ival,  all  the  senators 
and  persons  of  the  equestrian  order  by  their  names  ; the  latter, 
after  sitting  a whole  day  at  a public  sale,  gave  an  account  from 
Memory  in  the  evening  of  all  the  things  sold,  with  the  prices  and 
the  names  of  the  purchasers  ; which  account  was  found  on 
examination  to  agree  in  every  particular  with  wliat  had  been 
taken  in  writing  by  a notary.  Nor  will  these  anecdotes  appear 
incredible,  when  compared  with  what  Muretus  himself  saw  at 
Padua,  of  a young  Corsican,  who,  without  stop  or  hesitation, 
recited  thirty-six  thousand  names  in  the  same  order  in  which 
he  had  heard  them,  and  afterwards,  beginning  at  the  last,  pro- 
ceeded, in  a contrary  order,  to  the  first. 

To  the  same  class  of  facts  belong  (although  they  indicate 
also  the  strength  of  still  higher  faculties)  those  efforts  which 
some  individuals  are  able  to  make,  by  mere  force  of  attention 
and  Memory,  in  the  way  of  arithmetical  computation.  We  are 
told  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Wallis  of  Oxford,  that  “he  himself 
could,  in  the  dark,  perform  arithmetical  operations,  as  multipli- 
cation, division,  and  extraction  of  roots,  to  forty  decimal  places , 
particularly,  that,  in  February,  1671,  he  proposed  to  himself,  by 
night  in  bed,  (at  the  request  of  a foreigner,)  a number  of  fifty- 
three  places,  and  found  its  square  root  to  twenty-seven  places, 
and  that,  without  ever  writing  down  the  number,  he  dictated  the 
result  from  memory  twenty  days  afterwards.”  None  of  the 
facts,  with  respect  to  memory,  which  I have  met  with  in  ancient 
authors,  conveys  to  me  so  high  an  idea  of  the  wonders  which 
may  be  effected  by  a patient  and  steady  concentration  of  our 
mental  powers. 

Great  Memories  of  philosophers.  — These  facts,  however,  which 
relate  to  occasional  exertions  of  Memory  on  particular  s'ahjects,  do 
not  lead  to  conclusions  of  so  great  practical  utility,  nor  are  they, 
perhajis,  when  duly  weighed,  so  astonishing  in  themselves,  as 
those  which  illustrate  the  comprehensiveness  and  retentiveness  of 
which  this  faculty  has  1 «en  sometimes  found  susceptible,  with 


MEMORY. 


283 


respect  to  the  general  stock  of  human  knowledge.  A memorable, 
or  rather  an  extreme,  case  of  this  sort  is  said  to  have  occurred 
in  “ that  prodigy  of  parts,  Mr.  Pascal,”  of  whom  Mr.  Locke 
tells  us,  “ it  was  reported,  that,  till  the  decay  of  his  health  had 
impaired  his  mind,  he  forgot  nothing  of  what  he  had  done,  read, 
or  thought,  in  any  part  of  his  rational  age.”  A statement  to 
which,  (making  every  allowance  for  the  usual  exaggerations  of 
testimony,)  I do  not  know  that  any  thing  exactly  parallel  can 
be  produced  in  the  history  of  any  other  individual  equally  dis- 
tinguished by  all  the  highest  gifts  of  the  understanding. 

The  learned  Menage,  whom  Bayle  calls  the  Varro  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  deserves  also  to  be  mentioned  here,  on  ac- 
count of  the  extraordinary  strength  and  extent  of  his  memory ; 
but  still  more,  on  account  of  the  singular  degree  in  which  he 
appears  to  have  recovered  that  faculty,  after  it  had  been  greatly 
impaired  and  almost  destroyed  by  the  infirmities  of  old  age. 
Few  physiological  facts,  relating  to  the  mind,  are  so  well  attested 
as  this,  Menage  having  himself  commemorated  his  own  very 
interesting  history  in  Latin  verses  not  inferior  to  any  of  his 
juvenile  productions ; and,  making  due  abatements  for  some 
slight  poetical  licenses,  the  circumstances  which  he  records  can- 
not have  differed  widely  from  the  truth. 

Another  instance  of  the  same  sort  of  memory,  though  in  a 
very  inferior  man,  occurred  in  France,  about  a hundred  years 
ago,  in  the  Abbe  de  Longuerue,  whose  erudition  (to  borrow  an 
expression  which  DAlembert  applies  to  it)  was  not  only  pro- 
digious, but  terrible.  His  extraordinary  powers  displayed  them- 
selves even  in  his  childhood,  to  such  a degree,  that  Louis  XIV., 
when  passing  through  Charleville,  stopped  to  see  him  as  a curi- 
osity. Greek  and  even  Hebrew  (we  are  told)  were  as  familiar 
to  him  as  his  native  tongue ; and  on  questions  of  literature, 
Paris  consulted  him  as  an  oracle.  His  mind  was  so  well  fur- 
nished, not  only  with  historical  facts,  but  with  the  minuti®  of 
chronology  and  topography,  that,  upon  hearing  a person  remark 
in  conversation,  that  it  would  be  a difficult  task  to  write  a good 
historical  description  of  France,  he  asserted  that  he  could  do  it 
from  Memory,  without  consulting  any  books.  All  he  asked  was 


284 


ME310KY. 


to  liave  some  good  maps  of  France  laid  before  him.*  These 
recalled  to  him  the  history  of  each  province,  of  all  the  fiefs  of 
the  crown  of  each  city,  and  even  of  each  distinguished  noble- 
man’s seat  in  the  kingdom.  He  wrote  his  folio  History  in  a 
year,  which,  notwithstanding  some  very  gross  errors,  is  allowed 
to  be  correct,  not  only  in  its  general  outlines,  but  in  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  its  trifling  details. 

Education  to  be  conformed  to  the  peculiarities  of  Memory.  — ■ 
With  respect  to  this  extraordinary  person.  Miss  Edgeworth 
quotes  from  the  Marquis  d’Argenson  an  anecdote,  of  which  some 
use  may,  I think,  be  made  by  those  who  are  employed  in  the 
education  of  children.  When  the  Marquis  asked  liim  how  he 
managed  to  arrange  and  retain  in  his  head  every  thing  that 
entered  it,  he  answered,  by  observing  in  general  terms,  “ That 
the  elements  of  every  science  must  be  learned  whilst  we  are 
very  young  ; not  only  the  first  principles  of  every  language,  but 
the  A,  B,  C,  of  every  hind  of  hnoivledge.  This,”  he  adds,  “ is 
not  difficult  in  youth,  especially  as  it  is  not  necessary  to  pene- 
trate far.  Simple  notions  are  sufficient ; when  these  are  once 
acquired,  every  thing  we  read  afterwards  finds  its  proper  place.” 

This  remark  appears  to  me  to  be  equally  just  and  important ; 
and  I am  disposed  to  lay  the  greater  stress  upon  it,  as,  in  the 
person  to  whom  it  is  ascribed,  it  must  be  considered  merely  as 


* This  circumstance  deserves  attention,  as  it  shows  what  reliance  he 
placed  on  visible  objects  and  local  associations,  as  adminicles  to  his  powers  of 
recollection.  He  availed  himself,  in  fact,  of  the  same  general  principle 
which  suggested  the  topical  Memory  of  the  ancient  rhetoricians ; and  of 
which  the  efficacy  is  abundantly  confirmed  by  our  own  daily  experience. 
Whoever  has  paid  any  attention  to  the  education  of  young  persons,  must 
be  satisfied  that  the  only  effectual  expedient  for  fixing  historical  knowledge 
in  their  minds,  is  to  unite  the  studies  of  history  and  of  geography  together, 
by  accustoming  them  to  refer  every  occurrence  to  the  spot  where  it  took 
place,  and  to  follow  with  the  eye,  upon  an  accurate  map,  every  change  of 
scene  in  the  narrative.  The  greater  part  of  artificial  devices,  which  have 
been  thought  of  for  the  same  purpose,  are  mere  trick  and  quackery.  They 
may,  perhaps,  be  occasionally  subservient  to  an  ostentatious  display,  but, 
on  the  whole,  they  can  scarcely  fail  to  do  more  harm  than  good  to  the 
B aderstanding. 


BIEMORT. 


285 


an  experimental  result  drawn  from  the  history  of  his  own  mind, 
and  not  as  an  inference  from  any  theoretical  principles  concern- 
ing the  nature  and  laws  of  Memory.  It  contains,  I suspect,  a 
great  secret  of  that  species  of  education  which  is  commonly 
given  to  people  of  very  high  rank  ; to  whom  a power  of  plausi- 
ble and  imposing  discourse  is  too  frequently  conceived  to  be  an 
object  of  greater  value  than  the  possession  of  just  and  enlight- 
ened opinions.  In  the  education,  however,  of  all  without  ex- 
ception, it  is  susceptible,  under  proper  management,  of  the  most 
important  practical  application,  not  only  in  facilitating  the 
future  acquisition  of  ornamental  knowledge,  but  in  laying  an 
eai’ly  foundation  for  that  most  valuable  sort  of  Memory  which 
spontaneously  and  insensibly  classifies,  (or,  as  the  Abbe  de 
Longuerue  expressed  \t,puts  in  its  proper  place ^ every  particu- 
lar fact  at  the  moment  when  it  is  first  presented  to  the  mind. 
This  plan,  indeed,  seems  manifestly  to  be  pointed  out  to  us  by 
nature  herself,  inasmuch  as  she  has  rendered  the  impressions  of 
early  youth  incomparably  more  permanent  than  those  of  our 
more  advanced  years  ; and  by  doing  so,  has  furnished  the  means 
to  a skilful  instructor,  of  extending  the  advantage  of  that 
precious  season  over  the  whole  of  life. 

Memory  as  a measure  of  intellectual  capacity  in  general.  — 
From  these  details,  (and  it  would  be  very  easy  to  add  to  their 
number,)  it  sufficiently  appears,  that  extraordinary  powers  of 
Memoiy  do  not  always  indicate  a corresponding  measure  of  in- 
tellectual capacity  in  general.  At  the  same  time,  I can  by  no 
means  subscribe  to  the  prevailing  opinion,  that  extraordinary 
powers  of  Memory  are  incompatible  either  with  judgment  or 
with  genius.  On  the  contrary,  I can  scarcely  recollect  (as  I 
have  elsewhere  observed)  any  one  person  very  eminently  dis- 
tinguished by  the  latter  qualities,  who  has  not  also  possessed  a 
more  than  common  share  of  the  former.  And,  indeed,  if  we 
only  consider  for  a moment  how  intimately  this  faculty  is  con- 
nected with  every  species  of  mental  improvement,  it  must  ap- 
pear perfectly  manifest,  that,  however  numerous  the  instances 
may  be  in  which  great  powers  of  Memory  are  united  with  a 
deficiency  in  other  intellectual  endowments,  it  is  nevertheless  an 


286 


MEMORY. 


unquestionable  truth,  that  a vigorous  and  retentive  Memory 
may  be  fairly  ranked  among  the  most  important  of  the  qualities 
■which  enter  into  the  composition  either  of  an  inventive  genius, 
or  of  a comprehensive  understanding.  In  the  case,  too,  of 
some  individuals  of  the  most  powerful  and  splendid  talents,  the 
same  preternatural  strength  of  Memory  has  been  exemplified, 
which,  in  most  instances,  is  considered,  and,  perhaps,  not  al- 
together without  reason,  as  symptomatical  of  a weak  and  super- 
licial  judgment.  Of  this  I have  already  produced  some  re- 
markable proofs  in  the  course  of  the  foregoing  observations. 

TFAy  Memory  is  not  so  much  cultivated  among  the  moderns.  — ■ 
It  is  justly  observed  by  Miss  Edgeworth,  that  such  prodigies  of 
hlemory  are  not  now  to  be  looked  for,  as  we  have  reason  to 
believe  were  not  uncommon  in  Europe  a very  few  centuries 
ago.  “ The  art  of  printing,  by  multiplying  copies  of  books,  so 
as  to  put  them  within  the  reach  of  all  classes  of  the  people,  has 
lowered  the  value  of  those  extraordinary  powers  which  some  of 
the  learned  were  then  accustomed  to  display  with  so  much  osten- 
tation. At  the  revival  of  literature  in  Europe,  a man  who  had 
read  a few  manuscripts,  and  could  repeat  them,  was  not  merely 
a wonder,  but  a treasure ; he  could  travel  from  place  to  place, 
and  live  by  his  learning ; and  had  far  more  encouragement  to 
engrave  the  words  of  others  on  his  memory,  than  to  exercise  his 
own  powers  of  judgment  and  invention.”  In  later  times  the 
case  is  greatly  altered.  A reference  in  a commonplace-book 
to  a particular  page,  relieves  the  Memory  entirely  of  its  burden ; 
a good  index  supersedes  the  labor  of  years ; or  (as  Pope  has 
very  happily  expressed  the  same  idea,) 

“ Though  index-learning  turns  no  student  pale. 

It  holds  the  eel  of  science  by  the  tail.” 

Original  differences  among  men  in  respect  to  Memory.  — The 
facts  which  have  been  already  mentioned  sufficiently  account  for 
the  common  opinion,  that  the  original  differences  among  men 
in  their  capacities  of  Memory,  are  incomparably  greater  than  in 
the  case  of  any  other  faculty.  Nay,  I must  confess,  they  seem 
to  show  that  this  opinion  is  not  altogether  without  foundation. 


MEMORY. 


287 


At  the  same  time,  I am  fully  satisfied  that  these  difierences  are 
greatly  overrated.  Even  in  those  cases  where  Memory  seems 
to  be  the  weakest  and  most  incapable  of  culture,  there  is  com- 
monly sufficient  capacity  to  enable  the  individual  to  acquire  a 
competent  knowledge  of  his  mother-tongue,  and  to  learn  to 
recognize,  at  the  first  glance,  an  immense  multitude  of  particular 
objects  belonging  to  all  the  different  departments  of  nature ; 
beside  that  general  acquaintance  with  the  laws  of  the  material 
world,  and  the  properties  of  material  substances,  wliich  is 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  our  animal  existence ; and  that 
no  less  indispensable  acquaintance  with  many  maxims  of  com- 
mon sense,  relative  to  life  and  conduct,  without  a knowledge 
of  which  a man  approaches  to  the  condition  of  an  idiot  or 
changeling.  If  we  were  to  analyze  carefully  this  stock  of  infor- 
mation, it  would  be  found  to  comprehend  a far  greater  number 
of  particulars  than  we  might  be  disposed  at  first  to  suspect. 

I shall  avail  myself  of  the  title  which  I have  prefixed  to  this 
section,  to  introduce  here  a few  detached  passages  from  different 
authors,  which  appear  to  me  worthy  of  the  attention  of  those 
who  take  an  interest  in  the  study  of  the  mind.  Some  of  them 
are  from  books  not  likely  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  the  generality 
of  readers ; and  all  of  them  may  be  more  or  less  useful  in  illus- 
trating the  foregoing  conclusions.  With  these  extracts  I shall 
intersperse  slight  comments  of  my  own. 

Philosophical  minds  incapccble  of  attending  to  trifling  details. 
— I begin  with  a passage  from  Leibnitz,  one  of  the  few  philos- 
ophers who  have  favored  the  world  with  any  refiections  on  the 
peculiarities  of  his  own  intellectual  character.  [“  Invention  or 
ingenuity,  like  Memory,  is  of  two  kinds ; the  one  prompt,  being 
a quality  of  genius,  the  other  sure,  depending  on  good  judg- 
ment. Eloquent  persons  possess  the  former,  men  who  are  slow 
in  forming  their  conclusions,  but  yet  are  not  ill-adapted  for 
business,  have  the  latter.  Others  form  a remarkable  variety, 
as  in  certain  times  and  places,  they  are  wonderfully  prompt,  and 
on  other  occasions,  extremely  slow.  Among  these  last  I rank 
myself,  and  also  perceive  that  there  are  few  who  have  the  same 


288 


MEMORY. 


peculiarity,  that  all  easy  things  are  difficult  to  me,  and  on  the  ' 
other  hand,  all  difficult  things  are  easyl'~\ 

Upon  this  very  remarkable  expression  with  respect  to  himself, 
it  were  to  be  wished  that  Leibnitz  had  enlarged  a little  more 
fully.  The  only  interpretation  I can  put  upon  it  is,  that  he  felt 
a certain  degree  of  difficidty  necessary  to  rouse  his  intellectual 
faculties  to  action  ; and  that,  in  consequence  of  this  circumstance, 
(combined  probably  with  a consciousness  of  his  own  powers,) 
he  was  inferior  to  the  common  run  of  mankind  in  some  of  those 
egsy  acquisitions  which  are  within  the  reach  of  all.  The  case, 
I apprehend,  is  not  a singular  one ; as  we  often  meet  with  men 
of  the  most  splendid  talents,  who  are  deficient,  to  a ludicrous 
degree,  in  some  of  the  most  simple  and  mechanical  branches  of 
school  education.  I shall  only  mention,  as  examples,  the  art  of 
penmanship,  and  the  still  more  important  one,  of  arithmetical 
computation  ; in  both  of  which,  (though  from  different  causes,) 
the  progress  of  the  student  is  retarded  rather  than  aided  by  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  quickness  and  of  intellectual  capacity ; 
and  in  which,  accordingly,  men  of  genius  may  be  expected  to 
fall  below  the  general  standard,  unless  in  those  cases  where  they 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  carefully  trained  to  the  practice 
of  them  in  their  childhood,  or  very  early  youth.  AU.  such 
acquisitions  (it  may  be  here  observed  by  the  way,)  should,  on 
this  account,  be  rendered  by  habit  a second  nature,  before  the 
powers  of  reason  and  reflection  have  attained  such  a degree  of 
strength  as  to  render  the  task  of  the  learner  irksome  to  him- 
self, by  presenting  more  interesting  objects  to  his  curiosity. 
The  art  of  reading,  in  particular,  may  be  taught  to  infants  by 
any  person  of  common  sense,  by  a process  almost  as  insensible 
as  the  use  of  speech. 

The  foregoing  quotation  from  Leibnitz  brings  to  my  recollec- 
tion a fragment  of  Montesquieu,  which  affords  a memorable 
proof  of  the  difficulty  which  men  of  superior  minds  frequently 
experience  in  acquiring  a ready  and  practical  knowledge  of 
those  trifling  and  uninteresting  details,  which  are  treasured  up 
without  any  effort  by  those  to  whose  understandings  they  qre 


MEMOET. 


289 


more  congenial.  “ With  respect  to  my  employment  as  president, 
[a  judicial  title  in  France,]  I have  an  upright  heart  — I com- 
prehend with  ease  the  nature  of  the  business  ; but  of  the  forms 
of  the  court  I understand  nothing,  though  I took  pains  to  ac- 
quire that  knowledge ; and  what  dispirits  me  most  at  it  is,  that 
I observe  in  some  blockheads  the  very  talent  I seem  unable  to 
attain.” 

I should,  perhaps,  have  taken  an  earlier  opportunity  of  re- 
marking, that  in  contrasting,  as  I have  occasionally  done  in  this 
section,  the  species  of  Memory  possessed  by  philosophers  with 
that  possessed  by  the  vulgar  and  illiterate,  I evidently  have  in 
view  those  effects  only  which  their  respective  pursuits  have  a 
tendency  to  produce  on  the  intellectual  character.  Many  ex- 
ceptions to  our  general  conclusions  may  he  expected  in  particu- 
lar instances ; nor  does  there  seem  to  be  any  impossibility  in 
the  nature  of  things  to  unite,  by  a proper  education,  the  advan- 
tages of  hath  kinds  of  Memory.  That  incapacity,  for  example, 
of  attending  to  trifling  details,  of  which  Montesquieu  complains 
I in  the  above  quotation,  and  which  is  one  gi’eat  source  of  what 

I is  generally  called  a had  Memory,  is  undoubtedly  a most  serious 

I inconvenience  to  all  who  have  to  mingle  in  the  business  of  the 

I world ; and  although  it  is  justly  overlooked  in  those  whose 

I talents  and  acquirements  raise  them  much  above  the  common 

1 level,  yet  it  can  scarcely  be  guarded  against  enough  by  all 

] those  who  have  any  concern  in  the  education  of  youth.  To 

I enable  a person  to  command  his  attention,  at  all  times,  to  what- 

i ever  object  is  before  him,  whether  trifling  or  important,  so  that 

I “ whatsoever  his  hand  findeth  to  do,  he  may  do  it  with  all  his 
j miglit,”  is  one  of  the  most  important  habits  that  can  be  commu- 
nicated to  his  mind.  And  it  would  form  a most  valuable  article 
I in  a systematical  treatise  on  education,  to  point  out  the  means 
by  which  this  habit  may  be  cultivated,  or  the  contrary  habits  of 
^ inattention  corrected  where  they  have  unfortunately  been  con- 
ij  traded. 

The  following  judicious  remark  of  Mr.  Knox,  (in  his  Treatise 
on  Education,)  while  it  throws  some  additional  light  on  these 
l)  varieties  of  Memory  which  have  been  now  under  our  consider- 
' I 25 


290 


MEMORY. 


ation,  suggests  a practical  lesson  which  cannot  he  too  steadily 
kept  in  view  by  all  who  devote  themselves  to  the  study  of  liter- 
ature and  of  the  sciences.  In  point  of  value,  it  seems  to  me  to 
rise  considerably  above  the  ordinary  level  of  this  author’s  phi- 
losophy. 

“ Some  persons  seem  to  think  that  a good  Memory  consists 
in  retaining  dates  and  minute  particulars,  but  I believe,  that, 
though  a reader  remember  but  few  dates  and  few  minute  pai’tic- 
ulars,  he  may  yet  retain  all  the  necessary  general  ideas  and 
valuable  conclusions.  He  will' see  a wide  and  beautiful  arrange- 
ment of  important  objects,  while  another,  who  stoops  to  pick  up 
and  preserve  every  trifle,  will  have  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 
It  is  not  enough  that  the  mind  can  reproduce  just  what  it  has 
received  from  reading,  and  no  more;  it  must  reproduce  it 
digested,  altered,  improved,  and  refined.  Reading,  like  food, 
must  show  its  etfects  in  promoting  growth  ; according  to  a 
striking  remark  of  Epictetus,  the  application  of  which  is  suffi- 
ciently obvious  without  any  comment ; ‘ Sheep  do  not  show 
the  shepherd  how  much  they  have  eaten  by  producing  the  grass 
itself ; but  by  producing  outwardly  wool  and  milk  after  their 
pasture  is  inwardly  digested.’  ” 

III.  Of  the  improvement  of  Memory.  — Analysis  of  the  prin- 
ciples on  which  the  culture  of  Memory  depends.  — The  improve- 
ment of  which  the  mind  is  susceptible  by  culture,  is  more 
remarkable,  perhaps,  in  the  case  of  Memory,  than  in  that  of 
any  other  of  our  faculties.  The  fact  has  been  often  taken  notice 
of  in  general  terms  ; but  I am  doubtful  if  the  particular  mode 
in  which  culture  operates  on  this  part  of  our  constitution,  has 
been  yet  examined  by  philosophers  with  the  attention  which  it 
deserves. 

Of  one  sort  of  culture,  indeed,  of  which  Memory  is  suscepti- 
ble in  a very  striking  degree,  no  explanation  can  be  given  ; I 
mean  the  improvement  which  the  original  faculty  acquires  by 
mere  exercise  ; or,  in  other  words,  the  tendency  which  practice 
has  to  increase  our  natural  facility  of  association.  This  effect 
of  practice  upon  the  Memory,  seems  to  be  an  ultimate  law  of 
our  nature  ; or  rather,  to  be  a particular  instance  of  that  general 


MEMORY. 


291 


law,  that  all  our  powers,  both  of  body  and  mind,  may  be 
sti’engthened,  by  applying  them  to  their  proper  j ui’poses. 

Besides,  however,  the  improvement  which  Memory  admits 
of,  in  consequence  of  the  effects  of  exercise  on  the  original 
faculty,  it  may  be  greatly  aided  in  its  operations,  by  those  ex- 
pedients which  reason  and  experience  suggest  for  employing  it 
to  the  best  advantage.  These  expedients  furnish  a curious  sub- 
ject of  philosopliical  examination ; perhaps,  too,  the  inquiry 
may  not  be  altogether  without  use  ; for,  although  our  principal  re- 
sources for  assisting  the  Memory  be  suggested  by  nature,  yet  it  is 
reasonable  to  think,  that  in  this,  as  in  similar  cases,  by  following 
out  systematically  the  hints  which  she  suggests  to  us,  a further 
preparation  may  be  made  for  our  intellectual  improvement. 

How  Memory  becomes  more  susceptible  and  retentive.  — Every 
person  must  have  remarked,  in  entering  upon  any  new  species 
of  study,  the  difficulty  of  treasuring  up  in  the  Memory  its  ele- 
mentary principles  ; and  the  growing  facility  which  he  acquires 
in  this  respect,  as  his  knowledge  becomes  more  extensive.  By 
analyzing  the  different  causes  which  concur  in  producing  this 
facility,  we  may,  perhaps,  be  led  to  some  conclusions  which  may 
admit  of  a practical  application. 

1.  In  every  science,  the  ideas  about  which  it  is  pecuharly 
conversant,  are  connected  together  by  some  particular  associat- 
ing principle ; in  one  science,  for  example,  by  associations 
founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect;  in  another,  by 
associations  founded  on  the  necessary  relations  of  mathematical 
ti’uths ; in  a third,  on  associations  founded  on  contiguity  in  place 
or  time.  Hence  one  cause  of  the  gradual  improvement  of  Memory 
with  respect  to  the  familiar  objects  of  our  knowledge ; for  what- 
ever be  the  prevailing  associating  principle  among  the  ideas 
about  which  we  are  habitually  occupied,  it  must  necessarily 
acquire  additional  strength  from  our  favorite  study. 

2.  In  proportion  as  a science  becomes  more  familiar  to  us, 
we  acquire  a greates  command  of  attention  with  respect  to  the 
objects  about  which  it  is  conversant ; for  the  information  which 
we  already  possess,  gives  us  an  interest  in  every  new  truth  and 
every  new  fact  which  have  any  relation  to  it.  In  most  cases. 


292 


MEMOKT. 


our  hfibits  of  inattention  naay  be  traced  to  a want  of  curiosity ; 
and  therefore  such  habits  are  to  be  corrected,  not  by  endeavor- 
ing to  force  the  attention  in  particular  instances,  but  by  gradually 
learning  to  place  the  ideas  which  we  wish  to  remember,  in  an 
interesting  point  of  view. 

3.  When  we  first  enter  on  any  new  literary  pursuit,  we  are 
unable  to  make  a proper  discrimination  in  point  of  utility  and 
importance,  among  the  ideas  which  are  presented  to  us ; and  by 
attempting  to  grasp  at  every  thing,  we  fail  in  making  those 
moderate  acquisitions  which  are  suited  to  the  limited  powers  of 
the  human  mind.  As  our  information  extends,  our  selection 
becomes  more  judicious  and  more  confined  ; and  our  knowledge 
of  useful  and  connected  truths  advances  rapidly,  from  our  ceas- 
ing to  distract  the  attention  with  such  as  are  detached  and 
insignificant. 

4.  Every  object  of  our  knowledge  is  related  to  a variety  of 
others ; and  may  be  presented  to  the  thoughts,  sometimes  by  one 
principle  of  association,  and  sometimes  by  another.  In  propor- 
tion, therefore,  to  the  multiplication  of  mutual  relations  among 
our  ideas,  (which  is  the  natural  result  of  growing  information, 
and  in  particular,  of  habits  of  philosophical  study,)  the  greater 
will  be  the  number  of  occasions  on  which  they  will  recur  to  the 
recollection,  and  the  firmer  will  be  the  root  which  each  idea,  in 
particular,  will  take  in  the  Memory. 

It  follows,  too,  from  this  observation,  that  the  facility  of  re- 
taining a new  fact,  or  a new  idea,  will  depend  on  the  number  of 
relations  which  it  bears  to  the  former  objects  of  our  knowledge  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  every  such  acquisition,  so  far  from 
loading  the  Memory,  gives  us  a firmer  hold  of  all  that  part  of 
our  previous  information,  with  which  it  is  in  any  degree  con- 
nected. 

It  may  not,  perhaps,  be  improper  to  take  this  opportunity  of 
observing,  although  the  remark  be  not  immediately  connected 
with  our  present  subject,  that  the  accession,  made  to  the  stock 
of  our  knowledge,  by  the  new  facts  and  ideas  which  we  acquire, 
is  not  to  be  estimated  merely  by  the  number  of  these  facts  and 
ideas  considered  individually ; but  by  the  number  of  relations 


MEMORY. 


293 


wliich  they  hear  to  one  another,  and  to  all  the  different  particu- 
lars which  were  previously  in  the  mind  ; for  “ new  knowledge,” 
as  Mr.  Maclaurin  has  well  remarked,  “ does  not  consist  so  much 
in  our  having  access  to  a new  object,  as  in  comparing  it  with 
others  already  known,  observing  its  relations  to  them,  or  dis- 
cerning what  it  has  in  common  with  them,  and  wherein  their 
disparity  consists ; and,  therefore,  our  knowledge  is  vastly 
greater  than  the  sum  of  what  all  its  objects  separately  could 
afford ; and  when  a new  object  comes  within  our  reach,  the 
addition  to  our  knowledge  is  the  greater,  the  more  we  already 
know  ; so  that  it  increases,  not  as  the  new  objects  increase,  but 
in  a much  higher  proportion.” 

The  above  passage  may  serve  to  illustrate  an  ingenious  and 
profound  remark  of  Duclos,  in  his  Gonsiderations  sur  les  3£ceurs. 
“ If  education  was  judiciously  conducted,  the  mind  would  acquu-e 
a great  stock  of  truths  with  greater  ease  than  it  acqumes  a small 
number  of  errors.  Truths  have  among  themselves  a relation 
and  connection,  certain  points  of  contact,  which  are  equally 
favorable  to  the  powers  of  apprehension  and  of  Memory ; while, 
on  the  other  hand,  errors  are  commonly  so  many  insulated  prop- 
ositions, of  which,  though  it  be  difficult  to  shake  off  the  au- 
thority, it  is  easy  to  prevent  the  original  acquisition.” 

5.  In  the  last  place,  the  natural  powers  of  Memory  are,  in  the 
case  of  the  philosopher,  greatly  aided  by  his  peculiar  habits  of 
classification  and  arrangement.  As  this  is  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant improvement  of  which  Memory  is  susceptible,  I shall 
consider  it  more  particularly  than  any  of  the  others  I have 
mentioned. 

How  Memory  is  aided  hy  the  classification  ofi  ideas.  — The 
advantages  which  the  Memory  derives  from  a proper  classifica- 
tion of  our  ideas,  may  be  best  conceived  by  attending  to  its 
effects  in  enabling  us  to  conduct  with  ease  the  common  business 
of  fife.  In  what  inextricable  confusion  would  the  lawyer  or  the 
merchant  be  immediately  involved,  if  he  were  to  deposit,  in  his 
cabinet,  promiscuously,  the  various  written  documents  which 
daily  and  hourly  pass  through  his  hands  ? Nor  could  this  con- 
fusion be  prevented  by  the  natural  powers  of  Memory,  however 

2o* 


294 


MEMORY. 


vigorous  they  might  happen  to  be.  By  a proper  distribution 
of  these  documents,  and  a judicious  reference  of  them  to  a few 
general  titles,  a very  ordinary  Memory  is  enabled  to  accomplish 
more,  than  the  most  retentive,  unassisted  by  method.  We 
know,  with  certainty,  where  to  find  any  article  we  may  have 
occasion  for,  if  it  be  in  our  possession  ; and  the  search  is  con- 
fined within  reasonable  limits,  instead  of  being  allowed  to 
wander  at  random  amidst  a chaos  of  particulars. 

Or,  to  take  an  instance  still  more  immediately  applicable  to 
our  purpose ; suppose  that  a man  of  letters  were  to  record,  in  a 
commonplace-book,  without  any  method,  all  the  various  ideas 
and  facts  which  occurred  to  him  in  the  course  of  his  studies  ; 
what  diflSculties  would  he  perpetually  experience  in  applying 
his  acquisitions  to  use  ? and  how  completely  and  easily  might 
these  ditficulties  be  obviated  by  referring  the  particulars  of  his 
information  to  certain  general  heads  ? It  is  obvious,  too,  that, 
by  doing  so,  he  would  not  only  have  his  knowledge  much  more 
completely  under  his  command,  but  as  the  particulars  classed 
together  would  all  have  some  connection,  more  or  less,  with  each 
other,  he  would  be  enabled  to  trace,  with  advantage,  those 
mutual  relations  among  his  ideas,  which  it  is  the  object  of 
philosophy  to  ascertain. 

A commonplace-book,  conducted  without  any  method,  is  an 
exact  picture  of  the  Memory  of  a man  whose  inquiries  are  not 
directed  by  philosophy.  And  the  advantages  of  order  in  treas- 
uring up  our  ideas  in  the  mind,  are  perfectly  analogous  to  its 
effects  when  they  are  recorded  in  writing. 

Nor  is  this  all.  In  order  to  retain  our  knowledge  distinctly 
and  permanently,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  frequently  re- 
call it  to  our  recollection.  But  how  can  this  be  done  without 
the  aid  of  arrangement?  Or  supposing  that  it  were  possible, 
how  much  time  and  labor  would  be  necessary  for  bringing  under 
our  review  the  various  particulars  of  which  our  information  is 
composed  ? In  proportion  as  it  is  properly  systematized,  this 
time  and  labor  are  abridged.  The  mind  dwells  habitually,  not 
on  detached  facts,  but  on  a comparatively  small  number  of  gen- 
eral principles ; and,  by  means  of  these,  it  can  summon  up,  as 


MEMORY. 


295 


occasions  may  require,  an  infinite  number  of  particulars  associ- 
ated with  them ; each  of  which,  considered  as  a solitary  truth, 
would  have  heen  as  burdensome  to  the  Memory,  as  the  general 
principle  with  which  it  is  connected.* 

Classification  alone  does  not  constitute  philosophy.  — I would 
not  wish  it  to  he  understood  from  these  observations,  that  philoso- 
phy consists  in  classification  alone  ; and  that  its  only  use  is  to 
assist  the  Memory.  I have  often,  indeed,  heard  tliis  asserted 
in  general  terms ; but  it  rather  appears  to  me  to  he  obvious, 
that,  although  this  he  one  of  its  most  important  uses,  yet  some- 
thing more  is  necessary  to  complete  the  definition  of  it.  Were 
the  case  otherwise,  it  would  follow,  that  all  classifications  are 
equally  philosophical,  provided  they  are  equally  comprehensive. 
The  very  great  importance  of  this  subject  will,  1 hope,  he  a 
sufficient  apology  for  me,  in  taking  this  opportunity  to  correct 
some  mistaken  opinions  which  have  been  formed  concerning  it. 

IV.  Aid  which  the  Memory  derives  from  philosophical  ar- 
rangement. — It  was  before  observed,  that  the  great  use  of  the 
faculty  of  Memory,  is  to  enable  us  to  treasure  up,  for  the 
future  regulation  of  our  conduct,  the  results  of  our  past  experi- 
ence, and  of  our  past  reflections.  But  in  every  case  in  which 
we  judge  of  the  future  from  the  past,  we  must  proceed  on  the 
belief,  that  there  is,  in  the  course  of  events,  a certain  degree,  at 
least,  of  uniformity.  And,  accordingly,  this  belief  is  not  only 
justified  by  experience,  but  (as  Dr.  Reid  has  shown,  in  a very 
satisfactory  manner,)  it  forms  a part  of  the  original  constitution 
of  the  human  mind.  In  the  general  laws  of  the  material  world, 
this  uniformity  is  found  to  be  complete  ; insomuch  that,  in  the 


* It  is  very  justly  and  ingeniously  remarked  by  Dr.  Priestley,  that  “ the 
more  we  know  of  any  branch  of  science,  the  less  is  the  compass  into  which 
we  are  able  to  bring  its  principles,  provided  the  facts  from  which  they  are 
infeired  be  numerous.”  The  reason  is,  that,  “ in  an  advanced  state  of 
knowledge,  we  are  able  to  reduce  more  of  the  particular  into  general  obser- 
vations ; whereas,  in  the  infancy  of  a science,  every  observation  is  an 
independent  fact ; and,  in  delivering  the  principles  of  it,  they  must  all  be 
distinctly  mentioned ; so  that,  though  a selection  may  be  made,  a proper 
abridgment  is  impossible.” 


296 


MEMORY. 


same  combinations  of  circumstances,  we  expect,  witb  the  most 
perfect  assurance,  that  the  same  results  will  take  place.  In  the 
moral  world,  the  course  of  events  does  not  appear  to  be  equally 
regular  ; but  still  it  is  regular  to  so  great  a degree,  as  to  atford 
us  many  rules  of  importance  in  the  conduct  of  life. 

A knowledge  of  nature,  in  so  far  as  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  the  preservation  of  our  animal  existence,  is  obtruded  on  us, 
without  any  reflection  on  .our  paid,  from  our  earliest  infancy.  It 
is  thus  that  children  learn  of  themselves  to  accommodate  their 
conduct  to  the  established  laws  of  the  material  world.  In  doing 
so,  they  are  guided  merely  by  Memory,  and  the  instinctive 
principle  of  anticipation  which  has  just  been  mentioned. 

In  forming  conclusions  concerning  future  events,  the  philoso- 
pher, as  well  as  the  infant,  can  only  build  with  safety  on  past 
experience  ; and  he,  too,  as  well  as  the  infant,  proceeds  on  an  in- 
stinctive belief,  for  which  he  is  unable  to  account,  of  the  uni- 
formity of  the  laws  of  nature.  There  are,  Iiowever,  two  im- 
portant respects,  which  distinguish  the  knowledge  he  possesses 
from  that  of  ordinary  men.  In  i\i&  first  place,  it  is  far  more 
extensive,  in  consequence  of  the  assistance  which  science  gives 
to  his  natural  powers  of  invention  and  discovery.  Secondly,  it 
is  not  only  more  easily  retained  in  the  Memory,  and  more  con- 
veniently applied  to  use,  in  consequence  of  the  manner  in 
which  his  ideas  are  arranged ; but  it  enables  him  to  ascertain, 
hy  a process  of  reasoning,  all  those  truths  which  may  he  syntheti- 
cally deduced  f rom  his  general  principles.  The  illustration  of 
these  particulars  will  lead  to  some  useful  remarks ; and  will  at 
the  same  time  show,  that,  in  discussing  the  subject  of  this  sec- 
tion, I have  not  lost  sight  of  the  inquiry  which  occasioned  it. 

How  philosophy  aids  our  powers  of  invention  and  discovery.  — 
I.  (1.)  It  was  already  remarked,  that  the  natural  powers  of  Mem- 
ory, together  with  that  instinctive  anticipation  of  the  future 
from  the  past,  which  forms  one  of  the  original  principles  of  the 
mind,  are  sufficient  to  enable  infants,  after  a very  short  experi- 
ence, to  preserve  their  animal  existence.  The  laws  of  nature, 
which  it  is  not  so  important  for  us  to  know,  and  which  are  the 
objects  of  philosophical  curiosity,  are  not  so  obviously  exposed 


MEMORT. 


297 


to  our  view,  but  are,  in  general,  brought  to  light  by  means  of 
experiments  which  are  made  for  the  purpose  of  discovery ; or, 
in  other  words,  by  artificial  combinations  of  circumstances, 
which  we  have  no  opportunity  of  seeing  conjoined  in  the  course 
of  our  ordinary  experience.  In  this  manner,  it  is  evident,  that 
many  connections  may  be  ascertained,  which  would  never  have 
occurred  spontaneously  to  our  observation. 

(2.)  There  are,  too,  some  instances,  particularly  in  the  case 
of  the  astronomical  phenomena,  in  which  events,  that  appear  to 
common  observers  to  be  altogether  anomalous,  are  found,  upon 
a more  accurate  and  continued  examination  of  them,  to  be  sub- 
jected to  a regular  law.  Such  are  those  phenomena  in  the 
heavens,  which  we  are  able  to  predict  by  means  of  cycles.  In 
the  cases  formerly  described,  our  knowledge  of  nature  is  ex- 
tended by  placing  her  in  new  situations.  In  these  cases,  it  is 
extended  by  continuing  our  observations  beyond  the  limits  of 
ordinary  curiosity. 

(3.)  In  the  case  of  human  affairs,  as  long  as  we  confine  our 
attention  to  particulars,  we  do  not  observe  the  same  uniformity, 
as  in  the  phenomena  of  the  material  world.  When,  however, 
we  extend  our  views  to  events  which  depend  on  a combination 
of  different  circumstances,  such  a degree  of  uniformity  appears, 
as  enables  us  to  establish  general  rules,  from  which  probable 
conjectures  may  often  be  formed- with  respect  to  futurity.  It  is 
thus,  that  we  can  pronounce,  with  much  greater  confidence, 
concerning  the  proportion  of  deaths  which  shall  happen  in  a 
certain  period  among  a given  number  of  men,  than  we  can  pre- 
dict the  death  of  any  individual ; and  that  it  is  more  reasonable 
to  employ  our  sagacity,  in  speculating  concerning  the  probable 
determinations  of  a numerous  society,  than  concerning  events 
which  depend  on  the  will  of  a single  person. 

In  what  manner  this  uniformity  in  events  depending  on  con- 
tingent circumstances  is  produced,  I shall  not  inquire  at  present. 
The  advantages  which  we  derive  from  it  are  obvious,  as  it 
enables  us  to  collect,  from  our  past  experience,  many  general 
rules,  both  with  respect  to  the  history  of  political  societies,  and 
the  characters  and  conduct  of  men  in  private  life. 


298 


MEMORY. 


(4.)  In  the  last  place,  the  knowledge  of  the  philosopher  is 
more  extensive  than  that  of  other  men,  in  consequence  of  the 
attention  which  he  gives,  not  merely  to  objects  and  events,  but 
to  the  relations  which  diti'erent  objects  and  different  events  bear 
to  each  other. 

The  observations  and  the  experience  of  the  vulgar  are  almost 
wholly  limited  to  things  perceived  by  the  senses.  A similarity 
between  different  objects,  or  between  different  events,  rouses 
their  curiosity,  and  leads  them  to  classification  and  to  general 
rules.  But  a similarity  between  different  relations  is  seldom  to 
be  traced  without  previous  habits  of  philosophical  inquiry. 
Many  such  similarities  or  connections,  however,  are  to  be  found 
in  nature  ; and  when  once  they  are  ascertained,  they  frequently 
lead  to  important  discoveries  ; not  only  with  respect  to  other 
relations,  but  with  respect  to  the  objects  or  to  the  events  which 
are  related.  These  remarks  it  will  be  necessary  to  illustrate 
more  particularly. 

Aid  derived  from  a study  of  the  relations  of  things.  — The 
great  object  of  geometry*is  to  ascertain  the  relations  which 
exist  between  different  quantities,  and  the  connections  which 
exist  between  different  relations.  When  we  demonstrate,  that 
the  angle  at  the  centre  of  a circle  is  double  of  the  angle  at  the 
circumference  on  the  same  base,  we  ascertain  a relation  between 
two  quantities.  When  we  demonstrate,  that  triangles  of  the 
same  altitude  are  to  each  other  as  their  bases,  we  ascertain  a 
connection  between  two  relations.  It  is  obvious,  how  much  the 
mathematical  sciences  must  contribute  to  enlarge  our  knowledge 
of  the  universe,  in  consequence  of  such  discoveries.  In  that 
simplest  of  all  processes  of  practical  geometry,  which  teaches 
us  to  measure  the  height  of  an  accessible  tower,  by  comparing 
the  length  of  its  shadow  with  that  of  a staff  fixed  vertically  in 
the  ground,  we  proceed  on  the  principle,  that  the  relation 
between  the  shadow  of  the  staff  and  the  height  of  the  staff  is 
the  same  with  the  relation  between  the  shadow  of  the  tower 
and  the  height  of  the  tower.  But  the  former  relation  we  can 
ascertain  by  actual  measurement ; and,  of  consequence,  we  not 
only  obtain  the  other  relation,  but,  as  we  can  measure  one  of 


MEMOKT- 


299 


the  related  quantities,  we  obtain  also  the  other  quantity.  In 
every  case  in  which  mathematics  assists  us  in  measuring  the 
magnitudes  or  the  distances  of  objects,  it  proceeds  on  the  same 
principle  ; that  is,  it  begins  with  ascertaining  connections  among 
different  relations,  and  thus  enables  us  to  cany  our  inquiries 
from  facts  which  are  exposed  to  the  examination  of  oui-  senses, 
to  the  most  remote  parts  of  the  universe. 

I observed,  also,  that  there  are  various  relations  existing 
among  physical  events,  and  various  connections  existing  among 
these  relations.  It  is  owing  to  this  circumstance,  that  mathe- 
matics is  so  useful  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  physical 
inquirer.  In  that  beautiful  theorem  of  Huygens,  which  demon- 
strates, that  the  time  of  a complete  oscillation  of  a pendulum  in 
the  cycloid,  is  to  the  time  in  which  a body  would  fall  through 
the  axis  of  the  cycloid,  as  the  circumference  of  a circle  is  to  its 
diameter,  we  are  made  acquainted  with  a very  curious  and 
unexpected  connection  between  two  relations  ; and  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  connection  facilitates  the  determination  of  a most 
important  fact,  with  respect  to  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies  near 
the  earth’s  surface,  which  could  not  be  ascertained  conveniently 
by  a direct  experiment. 

In  examining  with  attention  the  relations  among  different 
physical  events,  and  the  connections  among  different  relations, 
we  sometimes  are  led  by  mere  induction  to  the  discovery  of  a 
general  law,  while,  to  ordinary  observers,  nothing  appears  but 
irregularity.  From  the  writings  of  the  earlier  opticians  we 
learn,  that,  in  examining  the  first  pi'inciples  of  dioptrics,  they 
were  led,  by  the  analogy  of  the  law  of  reflection,  to  search  for 
the  relation  between  the  angles  of  incidence  and  refraction,  (in 
the  case  of  light  passing  from  one  medium  into  another,)  in  the 
angles  themselves  ; and  that  some  of  them,  finding  this  inquiry 
unsuccessful,  took  the  trouble  to  determine,  by  experiments,  (in 
the  case  of  the  media  which  most  frequently  fall  under  con- 
sideration,) the  angle  of  refraction  corresponding  to  every 
minute  of  incidence.  Some  very  laborious  tables,  deduced  from 
such  experiments,  are  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  Kircher.  At 
length,  Snellius  discovered  what  is  now  called  the  law  of  refrac- 


300 


MEMORY. 


lion,  wliicli  comprehends  their  whole  contents  m a single  sen- 
tence : [the  sine  of  the  angle  of  incidence  bears  a constant  ratio 
to  the  sine  of  the  angle  of  refraction,  for  each  refracting  me- 
dium.] 

The  law  of  the  planetary  motions,  deduced  by  Kepler,  from 
the  observations  of  Tycho  Brahe,  is  another  striking  illustration 
of  the  ordei’,  which  an  attentive  inquirer  is  sometimes  able  to 
trace,  among  the  relations  of  physical  events,  when  the  events 
themselves  appear,  on  a superficial  view,  to  be  perfectly  anoma- 
lous. 

Such  laws  are,  in  some  respects,  analogous  to  the  cycles 
which  I have  already  mentioned  ; but  they  differ  from  them  in 
this,  that  a cycle  is,  commonly,  deduced  from  observations  made 
on  physical  events  which  are  obvious  to  the  senses ; whereas 
the  laws  we  have  now  been  considering  are  deduced  from  an 
examination  of  relations  which  are  known  only  to  men  of  science. 
The  most  celebrated  astronomical  cycles,  accordingly,  are  of  a 
very  remote  antiquity,  and  were  probably  discovered  at  a period 
when  the  study  of  astronomy  consisted  merely  in  accumulating 
and  recording  the  more  striking  appearances  of  the  heavens. 

II.  Memory  aided  hy  the  j^oiver  of  deducing  particular  truths 
from  general  principles.  — Having  now  endeavored  to  show 
how  much  philosophy  contributes  to  extend  our  knowledge  of 
-facts,  by  aiding  our  natural  powers  of  invention  and  discovery, 
I proceed  to  explain  in  what  manner  it  supersedes  the  neces- 
sity of  studying  particular  truths,  by  putting  us  in  possession  of 
a comparatively  small  number  of  general  principles  in  which 
they  are  involved. 

I already  remarked  the  assistance  which  philosophy  gives  to 
the  Memory,  in  consequence  of  the  arrangement  it  introduces 
among  our  ideas.  In  this  respect,  even  a hypothetical  theory 
may  facilitate  the  recollection  of  facts,  in  the  same  manner  in 
which  the  Memory  is  aided  in  remembering  the  objects  of 
natural  history  by  artificial  classifications.* 


* [“  Classification  is  a contrivance  for  the  best  possible  ordering  of  the 
ideas  of  objects  in  our  minds  ; for  causing  the  ideas  to  accompany  or  sue- 


MEMORY. 


SOI 


The  advantages,  however,  we  derive  from  true  philosophy, 
are  incomparably  greater  than  what  are  to  be  expected  from 
any  hypothetical  theories.  These,  indeed,  may  assist  us  in 
recollecting  the  particulars  we  are  already  acquainted  with ; 
but  it  is  only  from  the  laws  of  nature,  which  have  been  traced 
analytically  from  facts,  that  we  can  venture,  with  safety,  to  de- 
duce consequences  by  reasoning  a priori.  An  example  will 
illustrate  and  confirm  this  observation. 

Suppose  that  a glass  tube,  thirty  inches  long,  is  filled  with 


ceed  one  another  in  such  a way  as  shall  give  us  the  greatest  command  over 
our  knowledge  already  acquired,  and  lead  most  directly  to  the  acquisition 
of  more.  The  general  problem  of  Classification,  in  reference  to  these  pur- 
poses, may  be  stated  as  follows  : To  provide  that  things  shall  be  thought  of 
in  such  groups,  and  those  groups  in  such  an  order,  as  will  best  conduce  to 
the  remembrance  and  to  the  ascertainment  of  their  laws.” 

“ There  is  no  property  of  objects  which  may  not  he  taken,  if  we  please, 
as  the  foundation  for  a classification  or  mental  grouping  of  those  objects  ; 
and,  in  our  first  attempts,  we  are  likely  to  select  for  that  purpose  properties 
which  are  simple,  easily  conceived,  and  perceptible  on  a first  view,  with- 
out any  previous  process  of  thought.  Thus,  Toumefort’s  arrangement  of 
plants  was  founded  on  the  shape  and  divisions  of  the  corolla  ; and  that 
which  is  commonly  called  the  Linnsean,  (though  Linnteus  also  suggested 
another  and  more  scientific  arrangement,)  was  grounded  chiefly  upon  the 
number  of  the  stamens  and  pistils. 

“ But  these  classifications,  which  are  at  first  recommended  by  the  facility 
they  afford  us  of  ascertaining  to  what  class  any  individual  belongs,  are 
seldom  much  adapted  to  the  ends  of  that  Classification  which  is  the  subject 
of  our  present  remarks.  [They  are  like  the  alphabetical  arrangement  of 
words  in  a dictionary,  which  answers  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  en- 
abling us  easily  to  find  the  particular  word  which  we  are  in  search  of.] 
The  Linnoean  arrangement  answers  the  purpose  of  making  us  think  to- 
gether of  all  those  kinds  of  plants  which  possess  the  same  number  of  sta- 
mens and  pistils ; but  to  think  of  them  in  that  manner  is  of  little  use, 
since  we  seldom  have  any  thing  to  affirm  in  common  of  the  plants  which 
have  a given  number  of  stamens  and  pistils.  . . . And  inasmuch  as, 

by  habitually  thinking  of  plants  in  these  groups,  we  are  prevented  from 
habitually  thinking  of  them  in  groups  which  have  a greater  number  of 
properties  in  common,  the  effect  of  such  a classification,  when  system- 
atically adhered  to,  upon  our  habits  of  thought,  must  be  regarded  as  mis- 
chievous. 

“ The  ends  of  scientific  classification  are  best  answered  when  the  objects 

26 


302 


MEMORY. 


mercury,  excepting  eight  inches,  and  is  inverted,  as  in  the  Torri- 
cellian experiment,  so  that  the  eight  inches  of  common  air  may 
rise  to  the  top  ; and  that  I wish  to  know  at  what  height  the 
mercury  will  remain  suspended  in  the  tube,  the  barometer  being 
at  that  time  twenty-eight  inches  high.  There  is  here  a combi- 
nation of  ditferent  laws,  which  it  is  necessary  to  attend  to,  in 
order  to  be  able  to  predict  the  result.  1.  The  air  is  a heavy 
fluid,  and  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  is  measured  by  the 
column  of  mercury  in  the  barometer.  2.  The  air  is  an  elastic 
fluid,  and  its  elasticity  at  the  earth’s  surface  (as  it  resists  the 
pressure  of  the  atmosphere)  is  measured  by  the  column  of  mer- 


are  formed  into  groups,  respecting  which  a greater  nnmher  of  general  propo- 
sitions can  be  made,  and  those  propositions  more  important,  than  conld 
be  made  respecting  any  other  groups  into  wliicli  the  same  things  could  be 
distributed.  The  properties,  therefore,  according  to  which  objects  are 
classified,  should,  if  possilfie,  he  those  which  are  the  causes  of  many  other 
properties  ; or,  at  any  rate,  which  are  sure  marks  of  them.  ...  A 
classification  thus  formed  is  properly  scientific  or  philosophical,  and  is 
commonly  called  a Natural,  in  contradistinction  to  a Technical  or  Arti 
ficial,  classification  or  arrangement.”  Mill’s  System  of  Loyic,  Am.  ed.  pp. 
432-434. 

To  these  excellent  remarks  of  Mr.  Mill,  it  may  he  added,  that  writers 
even  upon  the  moral  sciences,  in  which  classification  is  less  essential  as  an 
aid  to  the  processes  of  invention  and  discovery,  still  strive  to  assist  the 
Memory  of  their  readers,  and  to  give  a sort  of  factitious  unity  to  their 
otherwise  isolated  disquisitions,  by  bringing  forward,  with  undue  promi- 
nence, some  one  fact  or  principle,  on  which  all  their  other  speculations 
seem  to  hitch,  and  which  serves,  so  to  speak,  as  a kind  of  key-note  to  the 
whole  work.  Thus,  in  his  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,  Adam  Smith,  as 
we  believe,  places  more  stress  upon  sympathy,  and  adduces  it  more  fre- 
quently to  aid  in  the  explanation  of  complex  moral  phenomena,  than  he 
would  have  done  for  purely  philosophical  reasons,  had  he  not  wished  to 
give  a semidance  of  harmony  and  systematic  completeness  to  his  remarks 
upon  a great  variety  of  subjects.  He  uses  a similar  artifice  in  his  great 
work  upon  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  in  which  a great  deal  more  is  said  about 
the  division  of  labor,  than  would  have  appeared  necessary,  had  he  not  been 
anxious  to  avoid  the  air  of  desultory  sjjeculation.  A more  transparent 
artifice  is  often  adopted  by  periodical  essayists,  like  Steele,  Swift,  Addison, 
and  Goldsmith,  by  carrying  out  the  fiction  of  a club  of  contributors,  or  an 
imaginary  editor,  so  that  rambling  essays  upon  many  subjects  may  have 
a slender  thread  of  connection  with  each  other.  ] 


MEMOET. 


303 


cury  in  the  barometer.  3.  In  different  states,  the  elastic  force 
of  the  air  is  reciprocally  as  the  spaces  which  it  occupies.  But, 
in  this  experiment,  the  mercury  which  remains  suspended  in 
the  tube,  together  with  the  elastic  force  of  the  air  in  the  top  of 
the  tube,  is  a counterbalance  to  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  ; 
and  therefore,  their  joint  effect  must  be  equal  to  the  pressure  of 
a column  of  mercury  twenty-eight  inches  high.  Hence  we 
obtain  an  algebraical  equation,  which  affords  an  easy  solution  of 
the  problem.  It  is  further  evident,  that  my  knowledge  of  the 
physical  laws  which  are  here  combined,  puts  it  in  my  power  to 
foretell  the  result,  not  only  in  this  case,  hut  in  all  the  cases  of  a 
similar  nature  which  can  be  supposed.  The  problem,  in  any 
pai’ticular  instance,  might  be  solved  by  making  the  experiment ; 
but  the  result  would  be  of  no  use  to  me,  if  the  slightest  alter- 
ation were  made  on  the  data. 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  philosophy,  by  putting  us  in  posses- 
sion of  a few  general  facts,  enables  us  to  determine,  by  reason- 
ing, what  will  be  the  result  of  any  supposed  combination  of 
them,  and  thus  to  comprehend  an  infinite  variety  of  particulars, 
which  no  Memory,  however  vigorous,  would  have  been  able  to 
retain.  In  consequence  of  the  knowledge  of  such  general  facts, 
the  philosopher  is  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  treasuring  up 
in  his  mind  all  those  truths  which  are  involved  in  his  principles, 
and  which  may  be  deduced  from  them  by  reasoning ; and  he 
can  often  prosecute  his  discoveries,  synthetically,  in  those  parts 
of  the  universe  which  he  has  no  access  to  examine  by  immedi- 
ate observation.  There  is,  therefore,  this  important  difference 
between  the  hypothetical  theory  and  a theory  obtained  by  induc- 
tion ; that  the  latter  not  only  enables  us  to  remember  the  facts 
we  ah’eady  know,  but  to  ascertain,  by  reasoning,  many  facts 
which  we  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  examining  : whereas, 
when  we  I’eason  from  a hypothesis  a priori,  we  are  almost  cer- 
tain of  running  into  error ; and,  consequently,  whatever  may 
be  its  use  to  the  Memory,  it  can  never  be  trusted  to  in  judging 
of  cases  which  have  not  previously  fallen  within  our  experience. 

In  what  sciences  hypothetical  theories  are  most  useful.  — There 
are  some  sciences,  in  which  hypothetical  theories  are  more  use- 


304 


MEMOKT. 


ful  than  in  others  ; those  sciences,  to  wit,  in  which  we  nave 
occasion  for  an  extensive  knowledge  and  a ready  recollection  of 
facts,  and  which,  at  the  same  time,  are  yet  in  too  imperfect  a 
state  to  allow  us  to  obtain  just  theories  by  the  method  of  induc- 
tion. This  is  pai’ticularly  the  case  in  the  science  of  medicine, 
in  which  we  are  under  a necessity  to  apply  our  knowledge,  such 
as  it  is,  to  practice.  It  is,  also,  in  some  degree,  the  case  in  agri- 
culture. In  the  merely  speculative  parts  of  physic  and  chemis- 
try, we  may  go  on  patiently  accumulating  facts,  without  forming 
any  one  conclusion,  further  than  our  facts  authorize  us ; and 
leave  to  posterity  the  credit  of  establishing  the  theory  to  which 
our  labors  are  subservient.  But  in  medicine,  in  which  it  is  of 
consequence  to  have  our  knowledge  at  command,  it  seems  reason- 
able to  think,  that  hypothetical  theories  may  be  used  with  ad- 
vantage ; provided  always,  that  they  are  considered  merely  in 
the  light  of  artificial  memories,  and  that  the  student  is  prepared 
to  lay  them  aside,  or  to  correct  them,  in  proportion  as  his  knowl- 
edge of  nature  becomes  more  extensive.  I am,  indeed,  ready 
to  confess,  that  this  is  a caution  which  it  is  more  easy  to  give,  than 
to  follow ; for  it  is  painful  to  change  any  of  our  habits  of 
arrangement,  and  to  relinquish  those  systems  in  which  we  have 
been  educated,  and  which  have  long  flattered  us  with  an  idea 
of  our  own  wisdom.  Dr.  Gregory  mentions  it  as  a striking 
and  distinguishing  circumstance  in  the  character  of  Sydenham, 
that,  although  full  of  hypothetical  reasoning,  it  did  not  render 
him  the  less  attentive  to  observation ; and  that  his  hypotheses 
seem  to  have  sat  so  loosely  about  him,  that  either  they  did  not 
influence  his  practice  at  all,  or  he  could  easily  abandon  them, 
whenever  they  would  not  bend  to  his  experience. 

V.  Effects  produced  on  the  Memory  by  committing  to  writing 
our  acquired  knowledge.  — Having  treated  at  considerable  length 
of  the  improvement  of  Memory,  it  may  not  be  improper,  before 
leaving  this  part  of  the  subject,  to  consider  what  effects  are 
likely  to  be  produced  on  the  mind  by  the  practice  of  committing 
to  writing  our  acquired  knowledge.  That  such  a practice  is 
unfavorable,  in  some  respects,  to  the  faculty  of  Memory,  by 
superseding,  to  a certain  degree,  the  necessity  of  its  exertions, 


MEMOKY. 


305 


has  been  often  remarked,  and,  I believe,  is  true  ; but  the  advan- 
tages with  which  it  is  attended  in  other  resfiects,  are  so  impor- 
tant, as  to  overbalance  greatly  this  trilling  inconvenience. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  at  present,  to  examine  and  compare 
together  the  ditferent  methods  which  have  been  proposed,  of 
keeping  a commonplace-hook.  In  this,  as  in  other  cases  of  a 
similar  kind,  it  may  be  difficult,  perhaps,  or  impossible,  to 
establish  any  rules  which  will  apply  universally.  Individuals 
must  be  left  to  judge  for  themselves,  and  to  adapt  their  con- 
trivances to  the  particular  nature  of  their  literary  pursuits,  and 
to  their  own  peculiar  habits  of  association  and  arrangement. 
The  remarks  which  I am  to  offer  are  very  general,  and  are  in- 
tended merely  to  illustrate  a few  of  the  advantages  which  the 
art  of  writing  affords  to  the  philosopher,  for  recording,  in  the 
course  of  his  progress  through  life,  the  results  of  his  specula- 
tions, and  the  fruits  of  his  experience. 

The  utility  of  writing,  in  enabling  one  generation  to  transmit 
its  discoveries  to  another,  and  in  thus  giving  rise  to  a gradual 
progress  in  the  species,  has  been  sufficiently  illustrated  by  many 
authors.  Little  attention,  however,  has  been  paid  to  another  of 
its  effects,  which  is  no  less  important ; I mean,  to  the  foundation 
which  it  lays  for  a perpetual  progress  in  the  intellectual  jiowers 
of  the  individual. 

Advantages  of  the  practice  of  recording  our  ideas  and  ex- 
perience. — It  is  to  experience,  and  to  our  own  reflections,  that 
we  are  indebted  for  by  far  the  most  valuable  part  of  our  knowl- 
edge ; and  hence  it  is,  that  although  in  youth  the  imagination 
may  be  more  vigorous,  and  the  genius  more  original,  than  in 
advanced  years  ; yet,  in  the  case  of  a man  of  observation  and 
inquiry,  the  judgment  may  be  expected,  at  least  as  long  as  his 
faculties  remain  in  perfection,  to  become  every  day  sounder  and 
more  enlightened.  It  is,  however,  only  by  the  constant  practice 
of  writing,  that  the  results  of  our  experience,  and  the  progress 
of  our  ideas,  can  be  accurately  recorded.  If  they  are  trusted 
merely  to  the  Memory,  they  will  gradually  vanish  from  it  like 
a dream,  or  will  come  in  time  to  be  so  blended  with  the  simores- 
tions  of  imagination,  that  we  shall  not  be  able  to  reason  from 
2G» 


306 


MEMOKT. 


them  with  any  degree  of  confidence.  What  improvements  in 
science  might  we  not  flatter  ourselves  with  the  hopes  of  accom- 
plishing, had  we  only  activity  and  industry  to  treasure  uj)  every 
plausible  hint  that  occurs  to  us  ! Hardly  a day  passes,  when 
manj'^  such  do  not  occur  to  ourselves,  or  are  suggested  by  others ; 
and  detached  and  insulated  as  they  may  appear  at  present,  some 
of  them  may,  perhaps,  afterwards,  at  the  distance  of  years,  fur- 
nish the  key-stone  of  an  important  system. 

A long  train  of  reasoning  or  investigation  cannot  he  prosecuted 
except  in  writing.  — But  it  is  not  only  in  this  point  of  view,  that 
the  philosopher  derives  advantage  from  the  practice  of  writing. 
Without  its  assistance,  he  could  seldom  be  able  to  advance 
beyond  those  simple  elementary  truths  which  are  current  in  the 
world,  and  which  form,  in  the  various  branches  of  science,  the 
established  creed  of  the  age  he  lives  in.  How  inconsiderable 
Avould  have  been  the  progress  of  mathematicians,  in  their  more 
abstruse  speculations,  without  the  aid  of  the  algebraical  notation  ; 
and  to  what  sublime  discoveries  have  they  been  led  by  this 
beautiful  contrivance,  which,  by  relieving  the  Memory  of  the 
effort  necessary  for  recollecting  the  steps  of  a long  investiga- 
tion, has  enabled  them  to  prosecute  an  infinite  variety  of  in- 
quiries, to  which  the  unassisted  powers  of  the  human  mind  would 
have  been  altogether  unequal ! In  the  other  sciences,  it  is  true, 
we  have  seldom  or  never  occasion  to  follow  out  such  long  chains 
of  consequences  as  in  mathematics  ; but  in  these  sciences,  if  the 
chain  of  investigation  be  shorter,  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  make 
the  transition  from  one  link  to  another ; and  it  is  only  by  dwell- 
ing long  on  our  ideas,  and  rendering  them  perfectly  familiar  to 
us,  that  such  transitions  can,  in  most  instances,  be  made  with 
safety.  In  morals  and  politics,  when  we  advance  a step  beyond 
those  elementary  truths  which  are  daily  presented  to  us  in  books 
or  conversation,  there  is  no  method  of  rendering  our  conclusions 
familiar  to  us,  but  by  committing  them  to  writing,  and  making 
them  frequently  the  subjects  of  our  meditation.  When  we  have 
once  done  so,  these  conclusions  become  elementary  truths  with 
respect  to  us  ; and  we  may  advance  from  them  with  confidence 
to  others  which  are  more  remote,  and  which  are  far  beyond  the 


MEMORY. 


SC  7 

reach  of  vulgar  discovery.  By  following  such  a plan,  we  can 
hardly  fail  to  have  our  industry  rewarded  in  due  time  by  some 
important  improvement ; and  it  is  only  by  such  a plan,  that  we 
can  reasonably  hope  to  extend  considerably  the  boundaries  of 
human  knowledge.  I do  not  say  that  these  habits  of  study  are 
equally  favorable  to  brilliancy  of  conversation.  On  the  con- 
trary, I believe  that  those  men  who  possess  this  accomplishment 
in  the  highest  degree,  are  such  as  do  not  advance  beyond  ele- 
mentary truths  ; or  rather,  perhaps,  who  advance  only  a single 
step  beyond  them ; .that  is,  who  think  a little  more  deeply  than 
the  vulgar,  but  whose  conclusions  are  not  so  far  removed  from 
common  opinions,  as  to  render  it  necessary  for  them,  when  called 
upon  to  defend  them,  to  exhaust  the  patience  of  their  hearers, 
by  stating  a long  train  of  intermediate  ideas.  They  who  have 
pushed  their  inquiries  much  further  than  the  common  systems 
of  their  times,  and  have  rendered  familiar  to  their  own  minds 
the  intermediate  steps  by  which  they  have  been  led  to  their  con- 
clusions, are  too  apt  to  conceive  other  men  to  be  in  the  same 
situation  with  themselves  ; and  when  they  mean  to  instruct,  are 
mortified  to  find  that  they  are  only  regarded  as  paradoxical  and 
visionary.  It  is  but  rarely  we  find  a man  of  very  splendid  and 
various  conversation  to  be  possessed  of  a profound  judgment, 
or  of  great  originality  of  genius. 

Nor  is  it  merely  to  the  philosopher,  who  wishes  to  distinguish 
himself  by  his  discoveries,  that  writing  afibrds  a useful  instru- 
ment of  study.  Important  assistance  may  be  derived  from  it 
by  all  those  who  wish  to  impress  on  their  minds  the  investiga- 
tions which  occur  to  them  in  the  course  of  their  reading ; for 
although  writing  may  weaken,  as  I already  ackiiowledge  it  does, 
a Memory  for  detached  observations,  or  for  insulated  facts,  it 
will  be  found  the  only  effectual  method  of  fixing  in  it,  perma- 
nently, those  acquisitions  which  involve  long  processes  of 
reasoning. 

How  whoi  we  learn  from  another  may  he  made  our  own.  — 
When  we  are  employed  in  inquiries  of  our  own,  the  conclusions 
which  we  form  make  a much  deeper  and  more  lasting  impres- 
sion on  the  Memory,  than  any  knowledge  which  we  imbibe  pas- 


308 


MEMORY. 


sively  from  another.  This  is  undoubtedly  owing,  in  part,  to  the 
effect  which  the  ardor  of  discovery  has,  in  rousing  the  activity 
of  the  mind,  and  in  fixing  its  attention ; but  I apprehend  it  is 
chiefly  to  be  ascribed  to  this,  that  when  we  follow  out  a train 
of  thinking  of  our  own,  our  ideas  are  arranged  in  that  order 
which  is  most  agreeable  to  our  prevailing  habits  of  association. 
The  only  method  of  putting  our  acquired  knowledge  on  a level, 
in  this  respect,  with  our  original  speculations,  is,  after  making 
ourselves  acquainted  with  our  author’s  ideas,  to  study  the  sub- 
ject over  again  in  our  own  way  ; to  pause,  from  time  to  time, 
in  the  course  of  our  reading,  in  order  to  consider  what  we  have 
gained ; to  recollect  what  the  propositions  are,  which  the  author 
w'ishes  to  establish,  and  to  examine  the  different  proofs  which 
he  employs  to  support  them.  In  making  such  an  experiment, 
we  commonly  find,  that  the  different  steps  of  the  process  arrange 
themselves  in  our  minds,  in  a manner  different  from  that  in 
which  the  author  has  stated  them ; and  that,  while  his  argu- 
ment seems,  in  some  places,  obscure,  from  its  conciseness,  it  is 
tedious  in  others,  from  being  unnecessarily  expanded.  When 
we  have  reduced  the  reasoning  to  that  form  which  appears  to 
ourselves  to  be  the  most  natural  and  satisfactory,  we  may  con- 
clude with  certainty,  not  that  this  form  is  better  in  itself  than 
another,  but  that  it  is  the  best  adapted  to  our  Memory.  Such 
reasonings,  therefore,  as  we  have  occasion  frequently  to  apply, 
either  in  the  business  of  life,  or  in  the  course  of  our  studies,  it 
is  of  importance  to  us  to  commit  to  writing,  in  a language  and 
in  an  order  of  our  own  ; and  if,  at  any  time,  we  find  it  necessary 
to  refresh  our  recollection  on  the  subject,  to  have  recourse  to 
our  own  composition,  in  preference  to  that  of  any  other  author.* 


* [It  is  a little  remarkable  that  Stewart,  in  this  ingenious  disquisition 
upon  the  advantages  of  the  practice  of  writing  out  our  thoughts,  should 
have  overlooked  that  upon  which  Lord  Bacon  lays  especial  stress,  when 
he  says,  “ Reading  maketh  a full  man,  conference  a ready  man,  and  writ- 
ing an  exact  man.”  In  no  other  way,  are  we  so  sure  of  obtaining  precision 
and  exactness  in  our  knowledge  and  in  our  trains  of  reasoning  and 
speculation,  as  by  writing  out  our  thoughts  and  recollections  as  fiist  as 
they  occur  to  us,  whether  we  afterwards  carefully  examine  the  manuscript 


MEMORY. 


309  • 


Different  modes  of  reading.  — That  the  plan  of  reading  -which 
is  conunonly  followed  is  very  different  from  that  which  I have 
been  recommending,  will  not  be  disputed.  Most  people  read 
merely  to  pass  an  idle  hour,  or  to  please  themselves  with  the 
idea  of  employment,  while  their  indolence  prevents  them  from 
any  active  exertion  ; and  a considerable  number,  with  a view  to 
the  display  which  they  are  afterwards  to  make  of  their  literary 
acquisitions.  From  whichsoever  of  these  motives  a person  is 
led  to  the  perusal  of  books,  it  is  hardly  possible  that  he  can 
derive  from  them  any  material  advantage.  If  he  reads  merely 
from  indolence,  the  ideas  which  pass  through  his  mind  will 
probably  leave  little  or  no  impression ; and  if  he  reads  from 
vanity,  he  wiU  be  more  anxious  to  select  striking  particulars  in 
the  matter  or  exjjression,  than  to  seize  the  spirit  and  scope  of 
the  author’s  reasoning,  or  to  examine  how  far  he  has  made  any 
additions  to  the  stock  of  useful  and  solid  knowledge.  “ Though 
it  is  scarce  possible,”  says  Dr.  Butler,  “ to  avoid  judging,  in  some 
way  or  other,  of  almost  every  thing  which  offers  itself  to  one’s 
thoughts,  yet  it  is  certain  that  many  persons,  from  different 
causes,  never  exercise  their  judgment  upon  what  comes  before 
them,  in  such  a manner  as  to  be  able  to  determine  how  far  it  be 
conclusive.  They  are  perhaps  entertained  with  some  things, 
not  so  with  others ; they  like,  and  they  dislike ; but  whether 


or  not.  In  conversation,  and  even  in  our  studious  meditations,  the 
attention  is  apt  to  wander  from  the  main  subject  in  hand,  gaps  and 
fallacies  in  reasoning  escape  unnoticed,  and  vagueness  or  uncertainty  of 
expression  is  apt  to  dim  the  truth  of  which  we  were  just  beginning  to 
catch  a glimpse.  But  when  we  think  with  the  pen  in  hand,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  think  slowly ; we  are  obliged  to  pause  upon  the  thought  which 
we  are  writing  out,  while  at  the  same  time  the  attention  is  not  allowed 
to  wander  from  it,  so  that  other  related  ideas  have  time  to  be  suggested 
to  us,  and  we  have  time  to  reflect  upon  these  before  they  are  adopted. 
The  necessary  effort  to  retain  perspicuity  of  language  tends  to  give  pre- 
cision to  our  thoughts ; and  the  idea  which  was  only  half  formed  oi 
vaguely  seen  when  we  began  to  write,  soon  swells  out  into  harmony 
and  completeness.  The  effort  to  instruct  others  has  a similar  effect 
upon  the  mind  with  that  of  writing  out  our  knowledge ; hence  the  force 
of  the  old  proverb,  docere  alios  docet  doctorem.  ] 


310 


MEMORY. 


tliat  wliich  is  proposed  to  be  made  out,  be  really  made  out  or 
not ; whether  a matter  be  stated  according  to  the  real  truth  of 
the  case,  seems,  to  the  generality  of  people,  a circumstance  of 
little  or  no  importance.  Arguments  ai’e  often  wanted  for  some 
accidental  purpose  ; but  pi'oof,  as  such,  is  what  they  never  want, 
for  their  own  satisfaction  of  mind,  or  conduct  in  life.  Not  to 
mention  the  multitudes  who  read  merely  for  the  sake  of  talking, 
or  to  qualify  themselves  for  the  world,  or  some  such  kind  of 
reasons,  there  are,  even  of  the  few  Avho  read  for  their  own 
entertainment,  and  have  a real  curiosity  to  see  what  is  said, 
several,  which  is  astonishing,  who  have  no  sort  of  curiosity  to 
see  what  is  true  ; I say  curiosity,  because  it  is  too  obvious  to  be 
mentioned  how  much  that  religious  and  sacred  attention  which 
is  due  to  truth,  and  to  the  important  question,  what  is  the  rule 
of  life,  is  lost  out  of  the  world. 

“ F or  the  sake  of  this  whole  class  of  readers,  for  they  are  of 
different  capacities,  different  kinds,  and  get  into  this  way  from 
different  occasions,  I have  often  wished  that  it  had  been  the 
custom  to  lay  before  people  nothing  in  matters  of  argument 
but  premises,  and  leave  them  to  draw  conclusions  themselves ; 
which,  although  it  could  not  be  done  in  all  cases,  might  in 
many. 

“ The  great  number  of  books  and  papers  of  amusement, 
which,  of  one  kind  or  another,  daily  come  in  one’s  way,  have  in 
part  occasioned,  and  most  perfectly  fall  in  with  and  humor,  this 
idle  way  of  reading  and  considering  things.  By  this  means, 
time,  even  in  solitude,  is  happily  got  rid  of  without  the  pain  of 
attention  ; neither  is  any  part  of  it  more  put  to  the  account  of 
idleness,  (one  can  scarce  forbear  saying,  is  spent  with  less 
thought,)  than  great  part  of  that  which  is  spent  in  reading.” 

If  the  plan  of  study  which  I formerly  described  were  adopted, 
it  would,  undoubtedly,  diminish  very  much  the  number  of  books 
which  it  would  be  possible  to  turn  over ; but  I am  convinced 
that  it  would  add  greatly  to  the  stock  of  useful  and  solid  knowl- 
edge ; and,  by  rendering  our  acquired  ideas  in  some  measure 
Dur  own,  would  give  us  a more  ready  and  practical  command  of 
iiem ; not  to  mention,  that  if  we  are  possessed  of  any  inventive 


MEMORY. 


311 


powers,  such  exercises  would  continually  furnish  them  with  an 
opportunity  of  displaying  themselves  upon  all  the  different  sub- 
jects Avhich  may  pass  under  our  review. 

Nothing,  in  truth,  has  such  a tendency  to  weaken,  not  only 
the  powers  of  invention,  but  the  intellectual  powers  in  general, 
as  a habit  of  extensive  and  various  reading,  without  reflection. 
The  activity  and  force  of  the  mind  are  gi-adually  impaired,  in 
consequence  of  disuse  ; and  not  unfrequently  all  our  principles 
and  opinions  come  to  be  lost,  in  the  infinite  multiplicity  and  dis- 
cordancy of  our  acquired  ideas. 

By  confining  our  ambition  to  pursue  the  truth  with  modesty 
and  candor,  and  learning  to  value  our  acquisitions  only  as  far 
as  they  contribute  to  make  us  wiser  and  happier,  we  may,  per- 
haps, be  obliged  to  sacrifice  the  temporaiy  admiration  of  the 
common  dispensers  of  literary  fame ; but  we  may  rest  assured, 
that  it  is  in  this  way  only  we  can  hope  to  make  real  i^rogress  in 
knowledge,  or  to  enrich  the  world  with  useful  inventions. 

“ It  requires  courage,  indeed,”  as  Helvetius  has  remarked, 
“ to  remain  ignorant,  of  those  useless  subjects  which  are  gener- 
ally valued  ; ” but  it  is  a courage  necessary  to  men  who  either 
love  the  truth,  or  who  aspire  to  establish  a permanent  repu- 
tation. 

VI.  Of  artificial  Memory.  — By  an  artificial  Memory  is 
meant,  a method  of  connecting  in  the  mind  things  difficult  to  be 
remembered,  with  the  things  easily  remembered  ; so  as  to  en- 
able it  to  retain  and  to  recollect  the  former,  by  means  of  the 
latter.  For  this  purpose,  various  contrivances  have  been  pro- 
posed, but  I think  the  foregoing  definition  applies  to  all  of  them. 

Some  sorts  of  artificial  Memory  are  intended  to  assist  the 
natural  powers  of  the  human  mind  on  particular  occasions, 
which  require  a more  than  ordinary  effort  of  recollection  ; for 
example,  to  assist  a public  speaker  to  recollect  the  arrangement 
of  a long  discourse.  Others  have  been  devised  with  a view  to 
enable  us  to  extend  the  circle  of  our  acquired  knowledge,  and 
to  give  us  a more  ready  command  of  all  the  various  particulars 
of  our  information. 

The  topical  Memory  so  much  celebrated  among  the  ancient 
rhetoricians,  comes  under  the  former  description. 


312 


MEMOKT. 


How  association  may  he  made  to  assist  Memory.  — I already  re- 
marked the  effect  of  sensible  objects,  in  recalling  to  the  mind  the 
ideas  with  which  it  happened  to  be  occupied,  at  the  time  when 
these  objects  were  formerly  perceived.  In  travelling  along  a 
road,  the  sight  of  the  more  remarkable  scenes  we  meet  with, 
frequently  puts  us  in  mind  of  the  subjects  we  were  thinking  or 
talking  of  when  we  last  saw  them.  Such  facts,  which  are  per- 
fectly familiar  even  to  the  vulgar,  might  very  naturally  suggest 
the  possibility  of  assisting  the  Memory,  by  establishing  a connec- 
tion between  the  ideas  we  wish  to  remember,  and  certain  sensible 
objects,  which  have  been  found  from  experience  to  make  a per- 
manent impression  on  the  mind.  I have  been  told  of  a young 
woman,  in  a very  low  rank  of  life,  who  contrived  a method  of 
committing  to  Memory  the  sermons  which  she  was  accustomed 
to  hear,  by  fixing  her  attention,  during  the  different  heads  of 
the  discourse,  on  different  compartments  of  the  roof  of  the 
church,  in  such  a manner  as  that,  when  she  afterwards  saw  the 
roof,  or  recollected  the  order  in  which  its  compartments  wei’e 
disposed,  she  recollected  the  method  which  the  preacher  had 
observed  in  treating  his  subject.  This  contrivance  was  perfectly 
analogous  to  the  topical  Memory  of  the  ancients ; an  art  which, 
whatever  be  the  opinion  we  entertain  of  its  use,  is  certainly 
entitled,  in  a high  degree,  to  the  praise  of  ingenuity. 

Suppose  that  I were  to  fix  in  my  Memory  the  different 
apartments  in  some  very  large  building,  and  that  I had  accus- 
tomed myself  to  think  of  these  apartments  always  in  the  same 
invariable  order.  Suppose  further,  that  in  preparing  myself 
for  a public  discourse,  in  which  I had  occasion  to  treat  of  a great 
variety  of  particulars,  I was  anxious  to  fix  in  my  Memory  the 
order  I proposed  to  observe  in  the  communication  of  my  ideas. 
It  is  evident,  that  by  a proper  division  of  my  subject  into  heads, 
and  by  connecting  each  head  with  a particular  apartment, 
(which  I could  easily  do,  by  conceiving  myself  to  be  sitting  in 
the  apartment  while  I was  studying  the  part  of  my  discourse  I 
meant  to  connect  with  it,)  the  habitual  order  in  which  these 
apartments  occurred  to  my  thoughts,  would  present  to  me,  in 
their  proper  arrangement,  and  without  any  effort  on  my  part. 


MEMORY. 


313 


the  ideas  of  which  I was  to  treat.  It  is  also  obvious,  that  a 
very  little  practice  would  enable  me  to  avail  myself  of  this  con- 
trivance, without  any  embarrassment  or  distraction  of  my  at- 
tention. 

How  far  artificial  Memory  is  useful.  — As  to  the  utility  of 
this  art,  it  appears  to  me  to  depend  entirely  on  the  particular 
object  which  we  suppose  the  speaker  to  have  in  view  ; whether, 
as  was  too  often  the  case  with  the  ancient  rhetoricians,  to  be- 
wilder a judge,  and  to  silence  an  adversary  ; or  fairly  and  can- 
didly to  lead  an  audience  to  the  truth.  On  the  former  suppo- 
sition, nothing  can  possibly  give  an  orator  a greater  superiority, 
than  the  possession  of  a secret,  which,  while  it  enables  him  to 
express  himself  with  facility  and  the  appearance  of  method, 
puts  it  in  his  power,  at  the  same  time,  to  dispose  his  arguments 
and  his  facts  in  whatever  order  he  judges  to  be  the  most  proper 
to  mislead  the  judgment,  and  to  perplex  the  Memory,  of  those 
whom  he  addresses.  And  such,  it  is  manifest,  is  the  effect,  not 
only  of  the  topical  Memory  of  the  ancients,  but  of  all  other 
contrivances  which  aid  the  recollection,  upon  any  principle  dif- 
ferent from  the  natural  and  logical  aiTangement  of  our  ideas. 

To  those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  speak  with  a view  to  con- 
vince or  to  inform  others,  it  is  of  consequence  that  the  topics 
Avhich  they  mean  to  illustrate,  should  be  arranged  in  an  order 
equally  favorable  to  their  own  recollection  and  to  that  of  their 
hearers.  For  this  purpose,  nothing  is  effectual  but  that  method 
which  is  suggested  by  the  order  of  their  own  investigations  ; a 
method  which  leads  the  mind  from  one  idea  to  another,  either 
by  means  of  obvious  and  striking  associations,  or  by  those  rela- 
tions which  connect  the  different  steps  of  a clear  and  accurate 
process  of  reasoning.  It  is  thus  only  that  the  attention  of  an 
audience  can  be  completely  and  incessantly  engaged,  and  that 
the  substance  of  a long  discourse  can  be  remembered  without 
effort.  And  it  is  thus  only  that  a speaker,  after  a mature  con- 
sideration of  his  subject,  can  possess  a just  confidence  in  his 
own  powers  of  recollection,  in  stating  all  the  different  premises 
which  lead  to  the  conclusion  he  Mushes  to  establish. 

Various  kinds  of  artificial  Memory.  — In  modern  times,  such 

27 


314 


MEMORY. 


contri  vances  have  beeu  very  little,  if  at  all,  made  use  of  by  pub- 
lic sjaeakers  ; but  various  ingenious  attempts  have  been  made, 
to  assist  the  Memory  in  acquiring  and  retaining  those  branches 
of  knowledge  which  it  has  been  supposed  necessary  for  a 
scholar  to  cany  always  about  with  him ; and  which,  at  the  same 
time,  from  the  number  of  particular  details  which  they  involve, 
are  not  calculated,  of  themselves,  to  make  a very  lasting  im- 
pression on  the  mind.  Of  this  sort  is  the  Memoria  Technica  of 
Mr.  Grey,  in  which  a great  deal  of  historical,  chronological, 
and  geographical  knowledge  is  comprised  in  a set  of  verses, 
which  the  student  is  supposed  to  make  as  familiar  to  himself  as 
school-boys  do  the  rules  of  grammar.  These  verses  are,  in 
general,  a mere  assemblage  of  proper  names,  disposed  in  a rude 
sort  of  measure ; some  slight  alterations  being  occasionally 
made  on  the  final  syllables  of  the  woi’ds,  so  as  to  be  significant 
(according  to  certain  principles  laid  down  in  the  beginning  of 
the  work)  of  important  dates,  or  of  other  particulars  which  it 
appeared  to  the  author  useful  to  associate  with  the  names. 

I have  heard  very  opposite  opinions  with  respect  to  the 
utility  of  this  ingenious  system.  The  prevailing  opinion  is,  I 
believe,  against  it ; although  it  has  been  mentioned  in  terms  of 
high  approbation  by  some  writers  of  eminence.  Dr.  Priestley, 
w'hose  judgment,  in  matters  of  this  sort,  is  certainly  entitled  to 
respect,  has  said,  that  “ it  is  a method  so  easily  learned,  and 
which  may  be  of  so  much  use  in  recollecting  dates,  when  other' 
methods  are  not  at  hand,  that  he  thinks  all  persons  of  a liberal 
education  inexcusable,  who  will  not  take  the  small  degree  of 
pains  that  is  necessary  to  make  themselves  masters  of  it ; or 
who  think  any  thing  mean,  or  unworthy  of  their  notice,  which 
is  so  useful  and  convenient.” 

In  judging  of  the  utility  of  this,  or  of  any  other  contrivance 
of  the  same  kind,  to  a particular  person,  a great  deal  must  de- 
pend on  the  species  of  Memory  which  he  has  received  from 
nature,  or  has  acquired  in  the  course  of  his  early  education. 
Some  men,  as  I already  remarked,  (especially  among  those  who 
have  been  habitually  exercised  in  childhood  in  getting  by  heart 
grammar  rules,)  have  an  extraordinary  facility  in  acquiring  and 


MEMORY. 


315 


retaining  the  most  barbarous  and  the  n.ost  insignificant  verses  ; 
which  another  person  would  find  as  difficult  to  remember,  as  the 
geographical  and  chronological  details  of  which  it  is  the  object 
of  this  art  to  relieve  the  Memory.  Allowing,  therefore,  the 
general  utility  of  the  art,  no  one  method,  perhaps,  is  entitled  to 
an  exclusive  preference ; as  one  contrivance  may  be  best  suited 
to  the  faculties  of  one  person,  and  a very  different  one  to  those 
of  another. 

Objection  to  all  expedients  of  this  nature.  — One  important 
objection  applies  to  all  of  them,  that  they  accustom  the  mind  to 
associate  ideas  by  accidental  and  arbitrary  connections;  and, 
therefore,  how  much  soever  they  may  contribute,  in  the  course 
of  conversation,  to  an  ostentatious  display  of  acquired  knowl- 
edge, they  are,  perhaps,  of  little  real  service  to  us,  when  we  are 
seriously  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  truth.  I own,  too,  I am 
very  doubtful  with  respect  to  the  utility  of  a great  part  of  that 
information  which  they  are  commonly  employed  to  impress  on 
the  Memory,  and  on  which  the  generality  of  learned  men  are 
disposed  to  value  themselves.  It  certainly  is  of  no  use,  but  in 
so  far  as  it  is  subservient  to  the  gratification  of  their  vanity ; 
and  the  acquisition  of  it  consumes  a great  deal  of  time  and 
attention,  which  might  have  been  employed  in  extending  the 
boundaries  of  human  knowledge.  To  those,  however,  who  are 
of  a different  opinion,  such  contrivances  as  Mr.  Grey’s  may  be 
extremely  useful ; and  to  all  men  they  may  be  of  service,  in 
fixing  in  the  Memory  those  insulated  and  uninteresting  particu- 
lars which  it  is  either  necessary  for  them  to  be  acquainted  with, 
from  their  situation,  or  which  custom  has  rendered,  in  the  com- 
mon opinion,  essential  branches  of  a liberal  education.  I would, 
in  particular,  recommend  this  author’s  method  of  recollecting 
dates,  by  substituting  letters  for  the  numeral  cyphers ; and 
forming  these  letters  into  words,  and  the  words  into  verses.  I 
have  found  it,  at  least  in  my  own  case,  the  most  effectual  of  all 
such  contrivances  of  which  I have  had  experience. 

VII.  Importance  of  making  a proper  selection  among  the  ob- 
jects of  our  knowledge,  in  order  to  derive  advantage  from  the 
acquisitions  of  Memory.  — The  cultivation  of  Memory,  with  all 


316 


MEMORY. 


the  helps  that  we  can  derive  to  it  from  art,  will  be  of  little  use 
to  us,  unless  we  make  a proper  selection  of  the  particulars  to 
be  remembered.  Such  a selection  is  necessary  to  enable  us  to 
profit  by  reading ; and  still  more  so,  to  enable  us  to  profit  by 
observation,  to  which  every  man  is  indebted  for  by  far  the  most 
valuable  part  of  his  knowledge. 

When  we  first  enter  on  any  new  literary  pursuit,  we  com 
monly  find  our  efforts  of  attention  painful  and  unsatisfactory. 
We  have  no  discrimination  in  our  curiosity  ; and  by  grasping  at 
every  thing,  we  fail  in  making  those  moderate  acquisitions  which 
are  suited  to  our  limited  faculties.  As  our  knowledge  extends, 
we  learn  to  know  what  particulars  are  likely  to  be  of  use  to  us  ; 
and  acquire  a habit  of  directing  our  examination  to  these,  with- 
out distracting  the  attention  with  others.  It  is  partly  owing  to 
a similar  circumstance,  that  most  readers  complain  of  a defect 
of  Memory,  when  they  first  enter  on  the  study  of  history.  They 
cannot  separate  important  from  trifling  facts,  and  find  themselves 
unable  to  retain  any  thing,  from  their  anxiety  to  secure  the 
whole. 

How  such  a selection  can  hest  he  made.  — In  order  to  give  a 
pi’oper  direction  to  our  attention  in  the  course  of  our  studies,  it 
is  useful,  before  engaging  in  particular  pursuits,  to  acquire  as 
familiar  an  acquaintance  as  possible  with  the  great  outlines  of 
the  different  branches  of  science  ; with  the  most  important  con- 
clusions which  have  hitherto  been  formed  in  them,  and  with  the 
most  important  desiderata  which  remain  to  be  supplied.  In  the 
case,  too,  of  those  parts  of  knowledge  which  are  not  yet  ripe 
for  the  formation  of  philosophical  systems,  it  may  be  of  use  to 
study  the  various  hypothetical  theories  which  have  been  pro- 
posed for  connecting  together  and  arranging  the  phenomena. 
By  such  general  views  alone,  we  can  prevent  ourselves  from 
being  lost  amidst  a labyrinth  of  particulars,  or  can  engage  in  a 
course  of  extensive  and  various  reading  with  an  enlightened 
and  discriminating  attention.  While  they  withdraw  our  notice 
from  barren  and  insulated  facts,  they  direct  it  to  such  as  tend  to 
illustrate  principles  which  have  either  been  already  established, 
or  which,  from  having  that  degree  of  connection  among  them- 


MEMORY. 


317 


selves  whicli  is  necessary  to  give  plausibility  to  a hypotbetical 
theory,  are  likely  to  furnish,  in  time,  the  materials  of  a juster 
system. 

The  proper  use  of  hypothetical  theories.  — Some  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Lord  Bacon  have,  I think,  been  led,  in  their  zeal  for  the 
method  of  induction,  to  censure  hypothetical  theories  with  too 
great  a degree  of  severity.  Such  theories  have  certainly  been 
frequently  of  use,  in  putting  philosophers  upon  the  road  of  dis- 
covery. Indeed,  it  has  probably  been  in  this  way,  that  most 
discoveries  have  been  made ; for  although  a knowledge  of  facts 
must  be  prior  to  the  formation  of  a just  theory,  yet  a hypotheti- 
cal theory  is  generally  our  best  guide  to  the  knowledge  of  useful 
facts.  If  a inan,  without  forming  to  himself  any  conjecture 
concerning  the  unknown  laws  of  nature,  were  to  set  himself 
merely  to  accumulate  facts  at  random,  he  might,  perhaps,  stumble 
upon  some  important  discovery  ; but  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
his  labors  would  be  wholly  useless.  Eveiy  philosophical  in- 
quirer, before  he  begins  a set  of  experiments,  has  some  general 
principle  in  his  view,  which  he  suspects  to  be  a law  of  nature ; * 
and  although  his  conjectures  may  be  often  wrong,  yet  they  serve 
to  give  his  inquiries  a particular  direction,  and  to  bring  under 
his  eye  a number  of  facts  which  have  a certain  relation  to  each 
other.  It  has  been  often  remarked,  that  the  attempts  to  discover 
the  philosopher’s  stone,  and  the  quadrature  of  the  circle,  have 
led  to  many  useful  discoveries  in  chemistry  and  mathematics. 
And  they  have  plainly  done  so,  merely  by  limiting  the  field  of 
observation  and  inquiry,  and  checking  that  indiscriminate  and 
desultory  attention  which  is  so  natural  to  an  indolent  mind.  A 


* “ Eecte  siquidem  Plato,  ‘ Qui  aliquid  qiiserit,  id  ipsum,  quod  quterit, 
generali  quadam  notione  compreliendit ; aliter,  qui  fieri  potest,  ut  illud, 
cum  fuerit  inventum,  agnoscatP  Idcirco  quo  amplior  et  certior  fuerit 
anticipatio  nostra,  eo  magis  directa  et  compendiosa  erit  iuvestigatio.”  — 
[As  Plato  justly  observes,  ‘ He  who  is  in  search  of  any  thing,  has  some 
general  notion  of  what  it  is  that  he  is  seeking  for ; otherwise,  how  should 
he  recognize  it  when  found  V Therefore,  according  as  our  anticipation  is 
full  and  clear,  so  will  our  investigation  be  brief  and  direct.] — De  Aug. 
Sclent,  lib.  v.  cap.  3. 


27* 


318 


MEMORY. 


hypotlietical  theory,  however  erroneous,  may  answer  a similar 
purpose.  “ Priulens  interrogatio,”  says  Lord  Bacon,  “ est  dimid- 
ium  scientiaa.  Vaga  enim  experientia  et  se  tantum  sequens 
mera  palpatio  est,  et  homines  potius  stupefacit  quam  informat.” 
[A  Avise  conjecture  is  one  half  of  knowledge.  For  experimental 
investigation  made  at  random,  and  only  following  itself,  is  mere 
groping,  and  rather  confounds  than  instructs  men.]  What,  in- 
deed, are  Newton’s  queries,  but  so  many  hypotheses  which  are 
proposed  as  subjects  of  examination  to  philosophers  ? And  did 
not  even  the  great  doctrine  of  gravitation  take  its  first  rise  from 
a fortunate  conjecture  ? 

While,  therefore,  we  maintain,  Avith  the  followers  of  Bacon, 
that  no  theory  is  to  be  admitted  as  proved,  any  further  than  it 
is  supported  by  facts,  Ave  should,  at  the  same  time,  acknowledge 
our  obligations  to  those  Avriters  Avho  hazard  their  conjectures  to 
the  Avorld  with  modesty  and  diffidence.  And  it  may  not  be  im- 
proper to  add,  that  men  of  a systematizing  turn  are  not  now  so 
useless  as  formerly ; for  we  are  already  possessed  of  a great 
stock  of  facts  ; and  there  is  scarcely  any  theory  so  bad,  as  not 
to  bring  together  a number  of  particulars  which  have  a certain 
degree  of  relation  or  analogy  to  each  other. 

The  foregoing  remarks  are  applicable  to  all  our  various 
studies  ; whether  they  are  conducted  in  the  way  of  reading,  or 
of  observation.  From  neither  of  these  tAvo  sources  of  informa- 
tion can  AA'e  hope  to  deriA'e  much  advantage,  unless  Ave  have 
some  general  principles  to  direct  our  attention  to  proper  objects. 

What  to  observe. — With  respect  to  observation,  some  further 
cautions  may  be  useful ; for,  in  guarding  against  an  indiscrimi- 
nate accumulation  of  particulars,  it  is  possible  to  fall  into  the 
opposite  extreme,  and  to  acquire  a habit  of  inattention  to  the 
phenomena  Avhich  present  themselves  to  our  senses.  The 
former  is  the  error  of  men  of  little  education ; the  latter  is 
more  common  among  men  of  retii’ement  and  study. 

Danger  of  withdrawing  the  attention  too  much  from  particu- 
lars and  details.  — One  of  the  chief  effects  of  a liberal  edu- 
cation, is,  to  enable  us  to  AAuthdraw  the  attention  fi'om  the  25res- 
ent  objects  of  our  perceptions,  and  to  dwell  at  pleasure  on  the 


MEMORY. 


319 


past,  the  absent,  or  the  future.  But  when  we  are  led  to  cany 
these  efforts  to  an  excess,  either  from  a warm  and  romantic 
imagination,  or  from  anxious  and  sanguine  temper,  it  is  easy  to 
see  that  the  power  of  observation  is  likely  to  be  weakened,  and 
habits  of  inattention  to  be  contracted.  The  same  effect  may  be 
produced  by  too  early  an  indulgence  in  philosophical  pursuits, 
before  the  mind  has  been  prepared  for  the  study  of  general 
truths,  by  exercising  its  faculties  among  particular  objects  and 
particular  occurrences.  In  this  way,  it  contracts  an  aversion  to 
the  examination  of  details,  from  the  pleasure  which  it  has  ex- 
perienced in  the  contemplation  or  in  the  discovery  of  general 
principles.  Both  of  these  turns  of  thought,  however,  pre- 
suppose a certain  degree  of  observation  ; for  the  materials  of 
imagination  are  supplied  by  the  senses  ; and  the  general  truths 
whicli  occupy  the  philosopher,  would  be  wholly  unintelligible  to 
him,  if  he  was  a total  stranger  to  all  experience  with  respect  to 
the  course  of  nature  and  of  human  life.  The  observations,  in- 
deed, which  are  made  by  men  of  a warm  imagination,  are  likely 
to  be  inaccurate  and  fallacious ; and  those  of  the  speculative 
philosopher  are  frequently  carried  no  further  than  is  necessary 
to  enable  liim  to  comprehend  the  terms  which  relate  to  the  sub- 
jects of  his  reasoning ; but  both  the  one  and  the  other  must 
have  looked  abroad  occasionally  at  nature,  and  at  the  world  ; if 
not  to  ascertain  facts  by  actual  examination,  at  least  to  store 
their  minds  with  ideas. 

The  metaphysician,  whose  attention  is  directed  to  the  faculties 
and  operations  of  the  mind,  is  the  only  man  who  possesses  within 
himself  the  materials  of  his  speculations  and  reasonings.  It  is 
accordingly,  among  this  class  of  literary  men,  that  habits  of  in- 
attention to  things  external  have  been  carried  to  the  greatest 
extreme. 

It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Reid,  that  the  power  of  Reflection,  (bj 
which  he  means  the  power  of  attending  to  the  subjects  of  our 
consciousness,)  is  the  last  of  our  intellectual  faculties  which  un- 
folds itself;  and  that,  in  the  greater  part  of  mankind,  it  never 
unfolds  itself  at  all.  It  is  a power,  indeed,  which  being  sub- 
servient merely  to  the  gratification  of  metaphysical  curiosity,  it 


320 


MEMORY. 


is  not  essentially  necessary  for  us  to  possess,  in  any  consider- 
able degree.  The  power  of  ohservation,  on  the  other  hand, 
which  is  necessary  for  the  preservation  even  of  our  animal  ex- 
istence, discovers  itself  in  infants  long  before  they  attain  the  use 
of  speech,  or  rather,  I should  have  said,  as  soon  as  they  come 
into  the  world ; and  where  nature  is  allowed  free  scope,  it  con- 
tinues active  and  vigorous  through  life.  It  was  plainly  the  in- 
tention of  nature,  that  in  infancy  and  youth,  it  should  occupy 
the  mind  almost  exclusively,  and  that  we  should  acquire  all  our 
necessary  information  before  engaging  in  speculations  which 
are  less  essential ; and  accordingly,  this  is  the  history  of  the  in- 
tellectual jirogress,  in  by  far  the  greater  number  of  individuals. 
In  consequence  of  this,  the  difBculty  of  metaphysical  researches 
is  undoubtedly  much  increased  ; for  the  mind,  being  constantly 
occupied  in  the  earlier  part  of  life  about  the  properties  and  laws 
of  matter,  acquires  habits  of  inattention  to  the  subjects  of  con- 
sciousness, which  are  not  to  be  surmounted,  without  a degree  of 
patience  and  perseverance  of  which  few  men  are  capable  ; but 
the  inconvenience  would  evidently  have  been  greatly  increased, 
if  the  order  of  nature  had,  in  this  respect,  been  reversed,  and  if 
the  curiosity  had  been  excited  at  as  early  a period,  by  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  intellectual  world,  as  by  those  of  the  material. 
Of  what  would  have  happened  on  this  supposition,  we  may  form 
a judgment  from  those  men  who,  in  consequence  of  an  excessive 
indulgence  in  metaphysical  pursuits,  have  weakened,  to  an  un- 
natural degree,  their  capacity  of  attending  to  external  objects- 
and  occurrences.  Few  metaphysicians,  perhaps,  are  to  he  found, 
who  are  not  deficient  in  the  power  of  observation  ; for,  although 
a taste  for  such  abstract  speculations  is  far  from  being  common, 
it  is  more  apt,  perhaps,  than  any  other,  when  it  has  once  been 
formed,  to  take  an  exclusive  hold  of  the  mind,  and  to  shut  up 
the  other  sources  of  intellectual  improvement.  As  the  meta- 
physician carries  within  himself  the  materials  of  his  reasonings, 
he  is  not  under  a necessity  of  looking  abroad  for  subjects  of 
speculation  or  amusement ; and  unless  he  be  very  careful  to 
guard  against  the  effects  of  his  favorite  ijursuits,  he  is  in  more 
danger  than  literary  men  of  any  other  denomination,  to  lose  all 


MEMORY. 


321 


interest  about  tbe  common  and  proper  objects  of  human  curi- 
osity. 

In  education^  the  study  of  the  mind  should  come  last.  — Tc 
prevent  any  danger  from  this  quai’ter,  I apprehend  that  the 
study  of  the  mind  should  form  the  last  branch  of  the  education 
of  youth  ; an  order  which  nature  herself  seems  to  point  out,  by 
M’hat  I have  already  remarked,  with  respect  to  the  development 
of  our  faculties.  After  the  understanding  is  well  stored  with 
particular  facts,  and  has  been  conversant  with  particular  scientific 
pursuits,  it  will  be  enabled  to  speculate  concerning  its  own 
250wers  with  additional  advantage,  and  will  run  no  hazard  of 
indulging  too  far  in  such  inquiries.  Nothing  can  be  more  ab- 
surd, on  this  as  well  as  on  many  other  accounts,  than  the  com- 
mon practice  which  is  followed  in  our  universities,  of  beginning 
a course  of  johilosophical  education  with  the  study  of  logic.  If 
this  order  were  completely  revei’sed ; and  if  the  study  of  logic 
were  delayed  till  after  the  mind  of  the  student  was  well  stored 
with  particular  facts  in  physics,  in  chemistry,  in  natural  and 
civil  history  ; his  attention  might  be  led  with  the  most  important 
advantage,  and  without  any  danger  to  his  power  of  observation, 
to  an  examination  of  his  own  faculties  ; which,  besides  opening 
to  him  a new  and  pleasing  field  of  speculation,  would  enable  him 
to  form  an  estimate  of  his  own  powers,  of  the  acquisitions  he 
has  made,  of  the  habits  he  has  formed,  and  of  the  further  im- 
provements of  which  his  mind  is  susceptible. 

In  general,  wherever  habits  of  inattention,  and  an  incapacity 
of  observation,  are  very  remarkable,  they  will  be  found  to  have 
arisen  from  some  defect  in  early  education.  I already  remarked, 
that,  when  nature  is  allowed  free  scope,  the  curiosity,  during 
early  youth,  is  alive  to  every  external  object,  and  to  every  ex- 
ternal occurrence,  while  the  powers  of  imagination  and  reflection 
do  not  display  themselves  till  a much  later  period ; the  former 
till  about  the  age  of  puberty,  and  the  latter  till  we  approach  to 
manhood.  It  sometimes,  however,  happens  that,  in  consequence 
of  a peculiar  disposition  of  mind,  or  of  an  infirm  bodily  consti- 
tution, a child  is  led  to  seek  amusement  from  books,  and  to  lose 
a relish  for  those  recreations  which  are  suited  to  his  age.  In 


322 


MEMOIiY. 


such  instances,  the  ordinary  progress  of  the  intellectual  powers 
is  prematurely  quickened ; hut  that  best  of  all  educations  is  lost 
M'hich  nature  has  prepared  both  for  the  philosopher  and  the  man 
of  the  M'orld,  amidst  the  active  sports  and  the  hazardous  adven- 
tures of  childhood.  It  is  from  these  alone,  that  we  can  acquire, 
not  only  that  force  of  character  which  is  suited  -to  the  more 
arduous  situations  of  life,  but  that  complete  and  prompt  com- 
mand of  attention  to  things  external,  without  which,  the  highest 
endowments  of  the  understanding,  however  they  may  fit  a man 
for  the  solitary  speculations  of  the  closet,  are  but  of  little  use  in 
the  practice  of  affairs,  or  for  enabling  him  to  profit  by  his  per- 
sonal experience. 

How  habits  of  inattention  to  details  may  be  corrected.  — Where, 
however,  such  habits  of  inattention  have  unfortunately  been 
contracted,  we  ought  not  to  despair  of  them  as  perfectly  incu- 
rable. The  attention,  indeed,  as  I formerly  remarked,  can 
seldom  be  forced  in  particular  instances  ; but  we  may  gradually 
learn  to  place  the  objects  we  wish  to  attend  to,  in  lights  more 
interesting  than  those  in  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
view  them.  Much  may  be  expected  from  a change  of  scene, 
and  a change  of  pursuits ; but  above  all,  much  may  be  expected 
from  foreign  travel.  The  objects  which  we  meet  with  excite 
our  surprise  by  their  novelty ; and  in  this  manner,  we  not  only 
gradually  acquire  the  power  of  observing  and  examining  them 
with  attention,  but,  from  the  effects  of  contrast,  the  curiosity 
comes  to  be  roused  with  respect  to  the  corresponding  objects  in 
our  own  country,  which,  from  our  early  familiarity  with  them, 
we  had  formeidy  been  accustomed  to  overlook.  In  this  respect, 
the  effects  of  foreign  travel,  in  directing  the  attention  to  familiar 
objects  and  occurrences,  is  somewhat  analogous  to  that  which 
the  study  of  a dead  or  of  a foreign  language  produces,  in  lead- 
ing the  curiosity  to  examine  the  grammatical  structure  of  our 
own. 

Considerable  advantage  may  also  be  derived,  in  overcoming 
the  habits  of  inattention,  which  we  may  have  contracted  to  par- 
ticular subjects,  from  studying  the  systems,  true  or  false,  which 
philosophers  have  proposed  for  explaining  or  for  arranging  the 


MEMORY. 


323 


facts  connected  witli  them.  Bj  means  of  these  systems,  not 
only  is  the  curiosity  circumscribed  and  directed,  instead  of  being 
allowed  to  wander  at  random,  but,  in  consequence  of  our  being 
enabled  to  connect  facts  with  general  principles,  it  becomes 
interested  in  the  examination  of  those  particulars  which  would 
otherwise  have  escaped  our  notice. 

VIII.  Of  the  connection  between  Memory  and  philosophical 
genius.  — It  is  commonly  supposed,  that  genius  is  seldom  united 
with  a very  tenacious  Memory.  So  far,  however,  as  my  own 
observation  has  reached,  I can  scarcely  recollect  one  person 
who  possesses  the  former  of  these  qualities,  without  a more  than 
ordinary  share  of  the  latter. 

On  a superficial  view  of  the  subject,  indeed,  the  common 
opinion  has  some  appearance  of  truth ; for,  we  are  naturally  led, 
in  consequence  of  the  topics  about  which  conversation-  is  usually 
employed,  to  estimate  the  extent  of  Memory  by  the  impression 
which  trivial  occurrences  make  upon  it ; and  these,  in  general, 
escape  the  recollection  of  a man  of  ability,  not  because  he  is 
unable  to  retain  them.,  but  because  he  does  not  attend  to  them.  It 
is  probable,  likewise,  that  accidental  associations,  founded  on 
contiguity  in  time  and  place,  may  make  but  a slight  impression 
on  his  mind.  But  it  does  not,  therefore,  follow,  that  his  stock 
of  facts  is  small.  They  are  connected  together  in  his  Memory 
by  principles  of  association  different  from  those  which  prevail 
in  ordinary  minds  ; and  they  are,  on  that  very  account,  the  more 
useful ; for  as  the  associations  are  founded  upon  real  connec- 
tions among  the  ideas,  (although  they  may  be  less  conducive  to 
the  fluency,  and  perhaps  to  the  wit,  of  conversation,)  they  are 
of  incomparably  greater  use  in  suggesting  facts  which  are  to 
serve  as  a foundation  for  reasoning  or  for  invention.  ' 

It  'frequently  happens,  too,  that  a man  of  genius,  in  conse- 
quence of  a peculiarly  strong  attachment  to  a particular  subject, 
may  first  feel  a wmnt  of  inclination,  and  may  afterwards  acquire 
a want  of  capacity,  of  attending  to  common  occurrences.  But 
it  is  probable,  that  the  whole  stock  of  ideas  in  his  mind  is  not 
inferior  to  that  of  other  men ; and  that,  however  unprofitably  he 
may  have  directed  his  curiosity,  the  ignorance  which  he  dis- 


324 


MEMORY. 


covers  on  ordinary  subjects  does  not  arise  from  a want  of 
Memory,  but  from  a peculiarity  in  the  selection  which  he  has 
made  of  the  objects  of  his  study. 

Montaigne  frequently  complains  in  his  writings  of  his  want 
of  Memory ; and  he  indeed  gives  many  very  extraordinary 
instances  of  his  ignorance  on  some  of  the  most  ordinary  topics 
of  information.  But  it  is  obvious  to  any  person  who  reads  his 
works  with  attention,  that  this  ignorance  did  not  proceed  from 
an  original  defect  of  Memory,  but  from  the  singular  and  whim- 
sical direction  which  his  curiosity  had  taken  at  an  early  period 
of  life.  “ I can  do-nothing,”  says  he,  “ without  my  memorandum- 
book  ; and  so  great  is  my  dithculty  in  remembering  proper 
names,  that  I am  forced  to  call  my  domestic  servants  by  their 
offices.  I am  ignorant  of  the  greater  part  of  our  coins  in  use  ; 
of  the  difference  of  one  grain  from  another,  both  in  the  earth 
and  in  the  granary ; what  use  leaven  is  of  in  making  bread,  and 
why  wine  must  stand  some  time  in  the  vat  before  it  ferments.” 
Yet  the  same  author  appears  evidently,  from  his  writings,  to 
have  had  his  Memory  stored  with  an  infinite  variety  of  apoph- 
thegms, and  of  historical  passages,  which  had  struck  his  imagin- 
ation ; and  to  have  been  familiarly  acquainted,  not  only  with  the 
names,  but  with  the  absurd  and  exploded  opinions  of  the  ancient 
philosophers  ; with  the  ideas  of  Plato,  the  atoms  of  Epicurus, 
the  plenum  and  vacuum  of  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  the  water 
of  Thales,  the  numbers  of  Pythagoras,  the  infinite  of  Parmen- 
ides, and  the  unity  of  Musaeus.  In  complaining,  too,  of  his 
want  of  presence  of  mind,  he  indirectly  acknowledges  a degree 
of  Memory,  which,  if  it  had  been  judiciously  employed,  would 
have  been  more  than  sufficient  for  the  acquisition  of  all  those 
common  branches  of  knowledge,  in  which  he  appears  to  have 
been  deficient.  “ When  I have  an  oration  to  speak,”  says  he, 
“ of  any  considerable  length,  I am  reduced  to  the  miserable 
necessity  of  getting  it,  word  for  word,  by  heart.” 

The  strange  and  apparently  inconsistent  combination  of 
knowledge  and  ignorance  which  the  writings  of  Montaigne  ex- 
hibit, led  Malebranche,  (who  seems  to  have  formed  too  low  an 
opinion  both  of  his  genius  and  character,)  to  tax  him  with  af- 


MEMORT. 


325 


fectation ; and  even  to  call  in  question  the  credibility  of  some 
of  his  assertions.  But  no  one  who  is  weU  acquainted  with  this 
most  amusing  author,  can  reasonably  suspect  his  veracity ; and, 
in  the  present  instance,  I can  give  him  complete  credit,  not  only 
from  my  general  opinion  of  his  sincerity,  but  from  having  ob- 
served, in  the  course  of  my  own  experience,  more  than  one  ex- 
ample of  the  same  sort  of  combination  ; not,  indeed,  carried  to 
such  a length  as  Montaigne  describes,  but  bearing  a striking 
resemblance  to  it. 

The  observations  which  have  ah’eady  been  made,  account,  in 
part,  for  the  origin  of  the  common  opinion,  that  genius  and 
Memory  are  seldom  united  in  great  degrees  in  the  same  person  ; 
and  at  the  same  time  show,  that  some  of  the  facts  on  which  that 
opinion  is  founded  do  not  justify  such  a conclusion.  Besides 
these,  however,  there  are  other  circumstances,  which,  at  first 
view,  seem  rather  to  indicate  an  inconsistency  between  exten- 
sive Memory  and  original  genius. 

What  kind  of  Memory  is  possessed  by  the  philosopher.  — The 
species  of  Memory  which  excites  the  greatest  degree  of  ad- 
miration in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  society,  is  a Memory  for 
detached  and  insulated  facts ; and  it  is  certain  that  those  men 
who  are  possessed  of  it  are  very  seldom  distinguished  by  the 
higher  gifts  of  the  mind.  Such  a species  of  Memory  is  un- 
favorable to  philosophical  arrangement ; because  it  in  part  sup- 
plies the  place  of  arrangement.  One  great  use  of  philosophy, 
as  I already  showed,  is  to  give  us  an  extensive  command  of 
particular  truths,  by  furnishing  us  with  general  principles,  under 
which  a number  of  such  truths  is  comprehended.  A person  in 
whose  mind  casual  associations  of  time  and  place  make  a lasting 
impression,  has  not  the  same  inducements  to  philosophize,  with 
others,  who  connect  facts  together  chiefly  by  the  relations  of 
cause  and  effect,  or  of  premises  and  conclusion.  I have  heard 
it  observed,  that  those  men  who  have  risen  to  the  greatest  emi- 
nence in  the  profession  of  law,  have  been,  in  general,  such  as 
had  at  first  an  aversion  to  the  study.  The  reason  probably  is, 
that  to  a mind  fond  of  general  principles,  every  study  must  be 

28 


MEMORY. 


32C) 

at  first  disgusting,  wliicli  presents  to  it  a cliaos  of  faits  appar- 
ently unconnected  with  each  other.  But  this  love  of  arrange- 
ment, if  united  with  persevering  industry,  will  at  last  conquer 
every  difficulty ; will  introduce  order  into  what  seemed,  on  a 
superficial  view,  a mass  of  confusion,  and  reduce  the  dry  and 
unintei’esting  detail  of  positive  statutes  into  a system  com- 
paratively luminous  and  beautiful. 

The  observation,  I believe,  may  be  made  more  general,  and 
may  he  applied  to  every  science  in  which  there  is  a great  multi- 
plicity of  facts  to  he'  i-emembered.  A man  destitute  of  genius 
may,  with  little  effort,  treasure  up  in  his  memory  a number  of 
particulars  in  chemistry  or  natural  history,  which  he  refers  to 
no  principle,  and  from  which  he  deduces  no  conclusion ; and 
from  his  facility  in  acquiring  this  stock  of  information,  may 
flatter  himself  with  the  belief  that  he  possesses  a natural  taste 
for  these  branches  of  knowledge.  But  they  who  are  really 
destined  to  extend  the  boundaries  of  science,  when  they  first 
enter  on  new  pursuits,  feel  their  attention  distracted,  and  their 
Memory  overloaded,  with  facts  among  which  they  can  trace  no 
relation,  and  are  sometimes  apt  to  despair  entirely  of  their  fu- 
ture progress.  In  due  time,  however,  their  superiority  appears, 
and  arises  in  part  from  that  very  dissatisfaction  which  they  at 
first  .experienced,  and  which  does  not  cease  to  stimulate  their 
inquiries,  till  they  are  enabled  to  trace,  amidst  a chaos  of  ap- 
parently unconnected  materials,  that  simplicity  and  beauty 
which  always  characterize  the  operations  of  nature. 

Inconveniences  experienced  hy  men  of  genius.  — There  are, 
besides,  other  circumstances  which  retard  the  progress  of  a man 
of  genius,  when  he  enters  on  a new  pursuit,  and  which  some- 
times render  him  apparently  inferior  to  those  who  are  possessed 
of  ordinary -capacity.  A want  of  curiosity  and  of  invention 
facilitates  greatly  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  It  renders  the 
mind  passive  in  receiving  the  ideas  of  others,  and  saves  all  the 
time  which  might  be  employed  in  examining  their  foundation, 
or  in  tracing  their  consequences.  They  who  are  possessed  of 
much  acuteness  and  originality,  enter  with  difficulty  into  the 


MKIIORT. 


327 


views  of  others ; not  from  any  defect  in  their  power  of  appre- 
hension, but  because  they  cannot  adopt  opinions  which  they 
have  not  examined ; and  because  their  attention  is  often  se- 
duced by  their  own  speculations. 

If  is  not  merely  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  that  a man 
of  genius  is  likely  to  find  himself  surpassed  by  others ; he  has 
commonly  his  information  much  less  at  command,  than  those 
who  are  possessed  of  an  inferior  degree  of  originality ; and, 
what  is  somewhat  remarkable,  he  has  it  least  of  all  at  command 
on  those  subjects  on  which  he  has  found  his  invention  most  fer- 
tile. Sir  Isaac  Newton,  as  we  are  told  by  Dr.  Pemberton,  was 
often  at  a loss,  when  the  conversation  turned  on  his  own  discov- 
eries. It  is  probable  that  they  made  but  a slight  impression  on 
his  mind,  and  that  a consciousness  of  his  inventive  powers  pre- 
vented him  from  taking  much  pains  to  treasure  them  up  in  his 
Memory.  Men  of  little  ingenuity  seldom  forget  the  ideas  they 
acquire  ; because  they  know,  that,  when  an  occasion  occurs  for 
applying  their  knowledge  to  use,  they  must  trust  to  Memory  and 
not  to  invention.  Explain  an  arithmetical  rule  to  a person  of 
common  understanding,  who  is  unacquainted  with  the  principles 
of  the  science ; he  will  soon  get  the  rule  by  heart,  and  become 
dexterous  in  the  application  of  it.  Another,  of  more  ingenuity, 
will  examine  the  principle  of  the  rule  before  he  applies  it  to 
use,  and  will  scarcely  take  the  trouble  to  commit  to  Memory  a 
process  which  he  knows  he  can,  at  any  time,  with  a little  re- 
flection, recover.  The  consequence  will  be,  that,  in  the  practice 
of  calculation,  he  will  appear  more  slow  and  hesitating,  than  if 
he  followed  the  received  rules  of  arithmetic  without  reflection 
or  reasoning. 

Prompt  recollection  may  he  mistaken  for  readiness  of  appre- 
hension. — Something  of  the  same  kind  happens  every  day  in 
conversation.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  opinions  we  an- 
nounce in  it,  are  not  the  immediate  result  of  reasoning  on  the 
spot,  but  have  been  previously  formed  in  the  closet,  or,  perhaps, 
have  been  adopted  implicitly  on  the  authority  of  others.  The 
promptitude,  therefore,  with  which  a man  decides  in  ordinary 
discourse,  is  not  a certain  test  of  the  quickness  of  his  apprc'* 


328 


MEMORY. 


hension ; * as  it  may,  perhaps,  arise  from  those  uncommon 
efforts  to  furnish  the  Memory  with  acquired  knowledge,  by 
which  men  of  slow  parts  endeavor  to  compensate  for  their  want 
of  invention ; while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  possible  that  a 
consciousness  of  originality  may  give  rise  to  a manner  appar- 
ently embarrassed,  by  leading  the  person  who  feels  it,  to  trust 
too  much  to  extempore  exertions. f 

~What  hind  of  Memory  rarely  accompanies  original  genius.  — 
In  general,  I believe,  it  may  he  laid  down  as  a rule,  that  those 
who  carry  about  with  them  a great  degree  of  acquired  infor- 
mation, which  they  have  always  at  command,  or  who  have  ren- 
dered their  own  discoveries  so  familiar  to  them,  as  always  to  be 
in  a condition  to  explain  them,  without  recollection,  are  very 
seldom  possessed  of  much  Invention,  or  even  of  much  quickness 
of  apprehension.  A man  of  original  genius,  who  is  fond  of 
exercising  his  reasoning  powers  anew  on  every  point  as  it  occurs 
to  him,  and  who  cannot  submit  to  rehearse  the  ideas  of  others, 
or  to  repeat  by  rote  the  conclusions  which  he  has  deduced  from 
previous  reflection,  often  appears,  to  superficial  observers,  to  fall 
below  the  level  of  ordinary  understandings ; while  another, 
destitute  both  of  quickness  and  invention,  is  admired  for  that 
promptitude  in  his  decisions,  which  arises  from  the  inferiority  of 
his  intellectual  abilities. 

It  must,  indeed,  be  acknowledged  in  favor  of  the  last  descrip- 


* “ Memoria  facit  prompti  ingenii  famam,  ut  ilia  quae  dicimus,  non  domo 
attulisse,  scd  ibi  protinus  sumpsisse  videamur.”  [A  good  Memory  gives 
one  a reputation  for  quickness  of  intellect ; for  what  we  say  appears  not 
to  have  been  brought  with  us  from  home,  but  to  be  struck  out  upon  the 
spot.]  — Quinct.  Inst.  Oral.  lib.  xi.  c.  2. 

t In  the  foregoing  observations,  it  is  not  meant  to  be  implied,  that 
originality  of  genius  is  incompatible  with  a ready  recollection  of  acquired 
knowledge ; but  only  that  it  has  a tendency  unfavoralde  to  it,  and  that  more 
time  and  practice  will  commonly  be  necessary  to  familiarize  the  mind 
of  a man  of  invention  to  the  ideas  of  others,  or  even  to  the  conclusions  of 
his  own  understanding,  than  are  requisite  in  ordinary  cases.  Habits  of 
literary  conversation,  and  still  more,  habits  of  extempore  discussion  in  a 
popular  assembly,  are  peculiarly  useful  in  giving  us  a ready  and  practical 
command  of  our  knowledge. 


MEMORT. 


329 


tion  of  men,  that  in  ordinary  conversation,  they  form  the  most 
agreeable,  and,  perhaps,  the  most  instructive  companions.  How 
inexhaustible  soever  the  invention  of  an  individual  may  be,  the 
variety  of  his  own  peculiar  ideas  can  bear  no  proportion  to  the 
whole  mass  of  useful  and  curious  information  of  which  the 
world  is  ah-eady  possessed.  The  conversation,  accordingly,  of 
men  of  genius,  is  sometimes  extremely  limited ; and  is  inter- 
esting to  the  few  alone,  who  know  the  value,  and  who  can  dis- 
tinguish the  mai’ks,  of  originality.  In  consequence,  too,  of  that 
partiality  which  every  man  feels  for  his  own  speculations,  they 
are  more  in  danger  of  being  dogmatical  and  disputatious,  than 
those  who  have  no  system  which  they  are  interested  to  defend. 

The  same  observations  may  be  applied  to  authors.  A book 
which  contains  the  discoveries  of  one  individual  only,  may  be 
admired  by  a few,'  who  are  intimately  acquainted  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  science  to  which  it  relates,  but  it  has  little  chance 
for  popularity  with  the  multitude.  An  author  who  possesses 
industry  sufScient  to  collect  the  ideas  of  others,  and  judgment 
sufficient  to  arrange  them  skilfully,  is  the  most  likely  person  to 
acquire  a high  degree  of  literary  fame ; and  although,  in  the 
opinion  of  enlightened  judges,  invention  forms  the  chief  charac- 
teristic of  genius,  yet  it  commonly  happens,  that  the  objects  of 
public  admiration  are  men  who  are  much  less  distinguished  by 
this  quality,  than  by  extensive  learning  and  cultivated  taste. 
Perhaps,  too,  for  the  multitude,  the  latter  class  of  authors  is  the 
most  useful ; as  their  writings  contain  the  more  solid  discoveries 
which  others  have  brought  to  light,  separated  from  those  errors 
with  which  truth  is  often  blended  in  the  first  formation  of  a 
system. 


28* 


330 


IMAGINATION. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  IMAGINATION. 

I.  Analysis  of  Imagination.  — In  attempting  to  draw  the 
line  between  conception  and  imagination,  I have  already  ob- 
served, that  the  province  of  the  former  is  to  present  us  with  an 
exact  transcript  of  what  we  have  formerly  felt  and  perceived', 
that  of  the  latter,  to  make  a selection  of  qualities  and  of  circum- 
stances from  a variety  of  different  objects,  and  hy  combining  and 
disposing  these,  to  form  a new  creation  of  its  own. 

According  to  the  definitions  adopted  in  general  by  modern 
philosophers,  the  province  of  imagination  would  appear  to  be 
limited  to  objects  of  sight.  “ It  is  the  sense  of  siglit,”  says  Mr. 
Addison,  “ which  furnishes  the  imagination  with  its  ideas ; so 
that,  by  the  pleasures  of  imagination,  I here  mean  such  as  arise 
from  visible  objects,  either  when  we  have  them  actually  in  view, 
or  when  we  call  up  their  ideas  into  our  minds  by  paintings, 
statues,  descriptions,  or  any  the  like  occasions.  "We  cannot,  in- 
deed, have  a single  image  in  the  fancy,  that  did  not  make  its 
first  entrance  through  the  sight.”  Agreeably  to  the  same  view 
of  the  subject.  Dr.  Reid  observes,  that  “imagination  properly 
signifies  a lively  conception  of  objects  of  sight;  the  former 
power  being  distinguished  from  the  latter,  as  a part  from  the 
v/hole.” 

Imagination  not  limited  to  objects  of  sight.  — That  this  limit- 
ation of  the  province  of  imagination  to  one  particular  class  of 
our  perceptions  is  altogether  arbitraiy,  seems  to  me  to  be  evi- 
dent ; for,  although  the  greater  part  of  the  materials  which 
imagination  combines  be  supplied  by  this  sense,  it  is  neverthe- 
less indisputable,  that  our  other  perceptive  faculties  also  con- 
tribute occasionally  their  share.  How  many  pleasing  images 


IMAGINATION. 


331 


have  been  borrowed  from  fragrance  of  the  fields  and  the  mel~ 
ody  of  the  groves  ; not  to  mention  that  sister  art,  whose  magical 
influence  over  the  human  frame  it  has  been,  in  all  ages,  the 
highest  boast  of  poetry  to  celebrate  ! In  the  following  passage, 
even  the  more  gross  sensations  of  taste  form  the  subject  of  an 
ideal  repast,  on  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  dwell  with  some 
complacency,  particularly  after  a perusal  of  the  preceding  lines, 
in  which  the  poet  describes  “ the  wonders  of  the  torrid  zone.” 

“ Bear  me,  Pomona  ! to  tliy  citron  groves  ; 

To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime, 

With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  thro’  the  green. 

Their  lighter  glories  blend.  Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind  that  shakes, 

Pann’d  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit ; 

Or,  stretch’d  amid  these  orchards  of  the  sun, 

O let  me  drain  the  cocoa’s  milky  bowl. 

More  boixnteous  far  than  all  the  frantic  juice 
Which  Bacchus  pours  ! Nor,  on  its  slender  twigs 
Low  bending,  be  the  full  pomegranate  scorn’d  ; 

Nor,  creeping  thro’  the  woods,  the  gelid  race 
Of  berries.  Oft  in  humbler  station  dwells 
Unboastful  worth,  above  fastidious  pomp. 

Witness  thou,  best  Anana,  thou  the  pride 
Of  vegetable  life,  beyond  whate’er 
The  poets  imaged  in  the  golden  age  : 

Quick  let  me  strip  thee  of  thy  spiny  coat. 

Spread  thy  ambrosial  stores,  and  feast  with  Jove  ! ” 

Thomson. 

Wbat  an  assemblage  of  other  conceptions,  different  from  all 
those  hitherto  mentioned,  has  the  genius  of  Virgil  combined  in 
one  distich ! 

Hie  gelidi  fontes,  hie  mollia  prata,  Lycori, 

Hie  nemus  ; hie  ipso  tecum  consumerer  sevo. 

Imagination  not  limited  even  to  the  sensible  world.  — These 
observations  are  sufficient  to  show  how  inadequate  a notion 
of  the  province  of  imagination  (considered  even  in  its  reference 
to  the  sensible  world)  is  conveyed  by  the  definitions  of  Mr. 
Addison  and  of  Dr.  Eeid.  But  the  sensible  world,  it  must  be 
remembered,  is  not  the  only  field  where  imagination  exerts  her 


332 


IMAGINATION. 


powers.  All  tlie  objects  of  human  knowledge  supply  materials 
to  her  forming  hand  ; diversifying  infinitely  the  works  she  pro- 
duces, while  the  mode  of  her  operation  remains  essentially  uni- 
form. As  it  is  the  same  power  of  reasoning  which  enables  us 
to  carry  on  our  investigations  with  respect  to  individual  objects, 
and  with  respect  to  classes  or  genera ; so  it  was  by  the  same 
processes  of  analysis  and  combination,  that  the  genius  of  Milton 
pro<luced  the  garden  of  Eden,  that  of  Harrington,  the  common- 
icealth  of  Oceana,  and  that  of  Sbakspeare,  the  characters  of 
Hamlet  and  Falstaff.  The  difference  between  these  several 
efforts  of  invention,  consists  only  in  the  manner  in  which  the 
original  materials  were  acquired ; as  far  as  the  power  of  imagi- 
nation is  concerned,  the  jirocesses  are  perfectly  analogous. 

But  imaginations  of  visible  objects  are  most  pleasing.  — The 
attempts  of  Mr.  Addison  and  of  Dr.  Reid  to  limit  the  province 
of  imagination  to  objects  of  sight,  have  plainly  proceeded  from 
a very  important  fact,  which  it  may  be  worth  while  to  illustrate 
more  particularly.  That  the  mind  has  a greater  facility,  and 
of  consequence,  a greater  delight,  in  recalling  the  perceptions 
of  this  sense  than  those  of  any  of  the  others  ; while  at  the  same 
time,  the  varieties  of  qualities  perceived  by  it  is  incomparably 
greater.  It  is  this  sense,  accordingly,  which  supplies  the  painter 
and  the  statuary  with  all  the  subjects  on  which  their  genius  is 
exercised,  and  which  furnishes  to  the  descriptive  poet  the 
largest  and  the  most  valuable  portion  of  the  materials  which  he 
combines.  In  that  absurd  species  of  prose  composition,  too, 
which  borders  on  poetry,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the 
predominance  of  phrases  that  recall  to  the  memory  glaring 
colors,  and  those  splendid  appearances  of  nature  which  make  a 
strong  impression  on  the  eye.  It  has  been  mentioned  by  dif- 
ferent writers,  as  a characteristical  circumstance  in  the  Oriental 
or  Asiaitc  style,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  metaphors  are 
taken  from  the  celestial  luminaries.  “ The  works  of  the  Per- 
sians,” says  M.  de  Voltaire,  “are  like  the  titles  of  their  kings, 
in  which  we  are  perpetually  dazzled  with  the,  sun  and  the 
moon.”  Sir  William  Jones,  in  a short  Essay  on  the  Poetry  of 
Eastern  Nations,  has  endeavored  to  show,  that  this  is  not  owing 


IMAGINATION. 


333 


to  the  bad  taste  of  the  Asiatics,  but  to  the  old  language  and 
popular  religion  of  their  country.  But  the  truth  is,  that  the 
very  same  criticism  will  be  found  to  apply  to  the  juvenile  pro- 
ductions of  every  author  possessed  of  a warm  imagination,  and 
to  the  compositions  of  every  people  among  whom  a cultivated 
and  philosophical  taste  has  not  estabhshed  a sufficiently  marked 
distinction  between  the  appropriate  styles  of  poetry  and  of 
prose. 

Agreeably  to  these  principles.  Gray,  in  describing  the  infan- 
tine reveries  of  poetical  genius,  has  fixed,  with  exquisite  judg- 
ment, on  this  class  of  our  conceptions : — 

“ Yet  oft  before  his  infant  eye  would  run 
Such  forms  as  glitter  in  the  Muse’s  ray 
With  orient  hues ” 

From  these  remarks,  it  may  be  easily  understood,  why  the 
word  imagination,  in  its  most  ordinary  acceptation,  should  be 
applied  to  cases  where  our  conceptions  are  derived  from  the 
sense  of  sight ; although  the  province  of  this  power  be,  in  fact, 
as  unlimited  as  the  sphere  of  human  enjoyment  and  of  human 
thought.  Hence  the  origin  of  those  partial  definitions  which  I 
have  been  attempting  to  correct;  and  hence,  too,  the  origin 
of  the  word  imagination;  the  etymology  of  which  implies 
manifestly  a reference  to  visible  objects. 

To  all  the  various  modes  in  which  imagination  may  display 
itself,  the  greater  part  of  the  remarks  contained  in  this  chapter 
will  be  found  to  apply,  under  proper  limitations  ; but,  in  order 
to  render  the  subject  more  obvious  to  the  reader’s  examination, 
I shall,  in  the  further  prosecution  of  it,  endeavor  to  convey  my 
ideas  rather  by  means  of  particular  examples,  than  in  the  form 
of  general  principles  ; leaving  it  to  his  own  judgment  to  deter- 
mine, with  what  modifications  the  conclusions  to  which  we  are 
led  may  be  extended  to  other  combinations  of  circumstances. 

Among  the  innumerable  phenomena  which  this  part  of  our 
constitution  presents  to  our  examination,  the  combinations  which 
the  mind  forms  out  of  materials  supplied  by  the  power  of  concep- 
tion recommend  themselves  strongly,  both  by  their  simplicity, 


334 


IMAGINATION. 


and  by  the  interesting  nature  of  the  discussions  to  whicb  they 
lead.  I shall  avail  myself,  therefore,  as  much  as  possible,  in 
the  following  inquiries,  of  whatever  illustrations  I am  able  to 
borrow  from  the  arts  of  'poetry  and  of  painting  ; the  operations 
of  imagination  in  these  arts  furnishing  the  most  intelligible  and 
pleasing  exemplifications  of  the  intellectual  processes,  by  which, 
ill  those  analogous  but  less  palpable  instances  that  fall  under  the 
eonsideration  of  the  moralist,  the  mind  deviates  from  the  models 
presented  to  it  by  experience,  and  forms  to  itself  new  and  un- 
tried objects  of  pursuit.  It  is  in  consequence  of  such  processes, 
(which,  how  little  soever  they  may  be  attended  to,  are  habitually 
passing  in  the  thoughts  of  all  men,)  that  human  atfairs  exhibit 
so  busy  and  so  various  a scene ; tending,  in  one  case,  to  im- 
provement, and,  in  another,  to  decline  ; according  as  our  notions 
of  excellence  and  of  happiness  are  just  or  erroneous. 

What  poioers  of  the  'niind  are  included  in  imagination.  — It 
was  observed  in  a former  part  of  this  work,  that  imagination  is 
a complex  power.  It  includes  conception  or  simple  apprehension, 
which  enables  us  to  form  a notion  of  those  former  objects  of  per- 
ception or  of  knowdedge,  out  of  which  we  are  to  make  a selec- 
tion ; abstraction,  which  separates  the  selected  materials  from 
the  qualities  and  circumstances  which  are  connected  with  them 
in  nature ; and  judgment  or  taste,  which  selects  the  materials, 
and  directs  their  combination.  To  these  powers,  we  may  add, 
that  particular  habit  of  association  to  which  I formerly  gave  the 
name  of  fancy ; as  it  is  this  which  presents  to  our  choice  all 
the  different  materials  which  are  subservient  to  the  efforts  of 
imagination,  and  which  may,  therefore,  be  considered  as  forming 
the  groundwork  of  poetical  genius.* 


* [Stewart’s  analysis  of  imagination,  as  far  as  it  goes,  agrees  with  that 
of  Cousin  ; but  the  latter  writer  adds,  that  a lively  sensibility  to  the  emotions 
of  taste  is  also  an  essential  element  in  the  exercise  of  the  imaginativo 
faculty.  After  enumerating,  as  Stewart  has  done,  conception,  (or  the  image- 
forming memory,  as  Cousin  calls  it,)  abstraction,  and  judgment  in  forming 
new  combinations,  as  powers  included  under  this  faculty,  he  asks,  “ But 
is  not  imagination  something  more  than  these  ? If  a man  should  remem- 
ber all  the  images  of  the  past,  and  should  unite  to  this  great  memory  a 


IMAGIXATIOX. 


33a 


To  illustrate  tliese  observations,  let  us  consider  tlie  steps  by 
which  Milton  must  have  proceeded  in  creatmg  his  imaginary 
garden  of  Eden.  When  he  first  proposed  to  himself  that  sub- 
ject of  description,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose,  that  a varietj  of 
the  most  striking  scenes  which  he  had  seen  crowded  into  his 
mind.  The  association  of  ideas  suggested  them,  and  the  power 
of  conception  placed  each  of  them  before  him,  with  all  its  beau- 


power  of  voluntary  abstraction,  and  a choice  among  all  the  materials  of 
his  experience,  would  he,  therefore,  be  endowed  with  the  creative  faculty  ? 
I think  not.  The  philosophers  from  whom  I borrow  this  theory  seem  to 
me  to  have  omitted  one  of  the  main  elements  which  make  up  the  functiou 
of  imagination  : this  is,  the  judgment  and  the  feeling  of  the  beautiful,  — > 
the  pure  love  which  ought  to  aid  the  work  of  the  intellect  and  the  mem- 
ory, and  to  infuse  its  own  warmth  into  both  of  them.  To  remember,  to 
abstract,  and  to  combine,  is  not  to  have  imagination ; if  it  were  so,  the 
cool  mathematician,  who  goes  on  from  one  deduction  to  another,  and  from 
one  theorem  to  another,  ought  to  be  considered  an  artist.  Whether  my 
memory  calls  up  spontaneously  objects  with  their  forms,  or  whether, 
by  the  force  of  my  will,  I call  them  up  myself,  and  when  these  images 
are  evoked,  though  I have  the  power  of  abstracting  them,  and  combining 
them  anew,  — in  all  this,  I see  nothing  but  memory  and  reason.  But  is 
it  with  reason  and  memory  alone,  that  you  will  make  a Michael  Angelo 
or  a Eaphael  1 Would  it  be  enough  for  Corneille  to  remember  the  his- 
torical facts,  and  to  combine  them  artistically,  in  order  to  make  his  tragedy 
of  the  Horatii  1 Besides  a great  memory  and  a powerful  intellect,  there 
was  needed  for  these  great  men  a measure  of  enthusiasm,  of  love  — not 
that  vulgar  love  which  depends  on  physical  sensibility  — but  the  pure  and 
disinterested  love  which  we  have  denominated  the  sentiment  of  the 
beautiful.  . . . Men  are  very  nearly  equal  to  each  other  in  respect  to 
memory,  reason,  and  will ; but  they  possess  in  very  unequal  degrees  the 
power  of  imagination  ; because  some  of  them  remain  cold  and  unaffected 
in  presence  of  the  objects,  cold  in  the  remembrance  of  them,  cold  in  their 
abstractions  and  combinations  ; while  others,  deeply  touched  at  the  sight 
of  beauty,  preserve,  through  the  operations  of  memory  and  the  voluntary 
combination  of  images,  the  same  vivacity  of  emotion,  the  same  warmth  of 
sentiment.”  — Du  T^rai,  da  Beau,  et  du  Bten. 

On  the  other  hand.  Sir  William  Hamilton,  in  remarking  on  the  doctrine 
of  the  incompatibility  of  creative  imagination  and  philosophical  talent,  as 
held  by  Hume,  Kant,  and  Reid,  says,  “ There  is  required,  however,  for  the 
metaphysician,  not  less  imagination  than  for  the  poet,  though  of  a different 
kind  ; it  may,  in  fact,  be  doubted  whether  Homer  or  Aristotle  pot  sessed 
this  faculty  in  greater  vigor.”  — Notes  t?  Reid.} 


33G 


IMAGINATION. 


ties  and  imperfections.  In  every  natural  scene,  if  we  destine  it 
for  any  particular  purpose,  there  are  defects  and  redundancies, 
whicli  art  may  sometimes,  but  cannot  always,  correct.  But  the 
power  of  imagination  is  unlimited.  She  can  create  and  annihi- 
late, and  dispose,  at  pleasure,  her  woods,  her  rocks,  and  her 
rivers.  Milton,  accordingly,  would  not  cojiy  his  Eden  from  any 
one  scene,  but  would  select  from  each  the  features  which  were 
most  eminently  beautiful.  The  power  of  abstraction  enabled 
him  to  make  the  separation,  and  taste  directed  him  in  the  selec- 
tion. Thus  he  was  furnished  with  his  materials ; by  a skilful 
combination  of  which,  he  lias  created  a landscape,  more  perfect, 
jirobably,  in  all  its  parts,  than  was  ever  realized  in  nature  ; and 
certainly  very  ditferent  from  any  thing  which  this  country  ex- 
hibited at  the  period  when  he  wrote.  It  is  a curious  remark  of 
Mr.  Walpole,  that  Milton’s  Eden  is  free  from  the  defects  of  the 
old  English  garden,  and  is  imagined  on  the  same  principles 
which  it  was  reserved  for  the  present  age  to  carry  into  execu- 
tion. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  sufficiently  evident,  that 
imagination  is  not  a simple  power  of  the  mind,  like  attention, 
conception,  or  abstraction  ; but  that  it  is  formed  by  a combina- 
tion of  various  faculties.  It  is  further  evident,  that  it  must  ap- 
pear under  very  different  forms,  in  the  case  of  different  individ- 
uals ; as  some  of  its  component  parts  are  liable  to  be  greatly 
influenced  by  habit,  and  other  accidental  circumstances.  The 
variety,  for  example,  of  the  materials  out  of  which  the  combina- 
tions of  the  poet  or  the  painter  are  formed,  will  depend  much 
on  the  tendency  of  external  situation  to  store  the  mind  with  a 
multiplicity  of  conceptions ; and  the  beauty  of  these  combina- 
tions will  depend  entirely  on  the  success  with  which  the  power 
of  taste  has  been  cultivated.  What  we  call,  therefore,  the 
power  of  imagination,  is  not  the  gift  of  nature,  hut  the  result  of 
acquired  habits,  aided  by  favorable  circumstances.  It  is  not  an 
original  endowment  of  the  mind,  but  an  accomplishment  formed 
by  experience  and  situation  ; and  which,  in  its  different  grada- 
tions, fills  up  all  the  interval  between  the  first  efforts  of  untu- 
tored genius,  and  the  sublime  creations  of  Raphael  or  of  Milton. 


IMAGINATION. 


o o *7 

o-»  i 


An  nncoramon  degree  of  imagination  constitutes  poeticnl 
genius ; a talent  which,  although  chiefly  displayed  in  poetical 
composition,  is  also  the  foundation  (though  not  precisely  in  the 
same  manner)  of  various  other  arts.  A few  remarks  on  the 
relation  which  imagination  bears  to  some  of  the  most  interesting 
of  these,  will  throw  additional  light  on  its  nature  and  office. 

II.  Of  imagination  considered  in  its  relation  to  some  of  the 
fine  arts.  — Among  the  arts  connected  with  imagination,  some 
not  only  take  their  rise  from  this  power,  but  produce  objects 
Avhich  are  addressed  to  it.  Others  take  their  rise  from  imagina- 
tion, but  produce  objects  which  are  addressed  to  the  power  of 
perception. 

(1.)  Landscape  gardening.  — To  the  latter  of  these  two 
classes  of  arts  belongs  that  of  gardening ; or,  as  it  has  been 
lately  called,  the  art  of  creating  landscape.  In  this  art,  the 
designer  is  limited  in  his  creation  by  nature  ; and  his  only  prov- 
ince is  to  correct,  to  improve,  and  to  adorn.  As  he  cannot 
repeat  his  experiments,  in  order  to  observe  the  effect,  he  must 
call  up,  in  his  imagination,  the  scene  which  he  means  to  pro- 
duce ; and  apply  to  his  imaginary  scene  his  taste  and  his  judg- 
ment ; or,  in  other  words,  to  a lively  conception  of  visible  ob- 
jects, he  must  add  a power  (which  long  experience  and  attentive 
observation  alone  can  give  him)  of  judging  beforehand,  of  the 
.effect  which  they  would  produce,  if  they  were  actually  exhibited 
to  his  senses.  This  power  forms  what  Lord  Chatham  beauti- 
fully and  expressively  called  the  prophetic  eye  of  Taste  ; that 
eye  which  (if  I may  borrow  the  language  of  hlr.  Gray)  “ sees 
all  the  beauties  that  a place  is  susceptible  of,  long  before  they 
are  born ; and  when  it  plants  a seedling,  already  sits  under  the 
shade  of  it,  and  enjoys  the  effect  it  will  have  from  every  point 
of  view  that  lies  in  the  prospect.”  But  although  the  artist  who 
creates  a landscape  copies  it  from  his  imagination,  the  scene 
which  he  exhibits  is  addressed  to  the  senses,  and  may  produce  its 
full  effect  on  the  minds  of  others,  without  any  effort  on  their 
part,  either  of  imagination  or  of  conception. 

To  prevent  being  misunderstood,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  re- 
mark, that,  in  the  last  observation,  I speak  merely  of  the  natural 

29 


338 


IMAGINATION. 


effects  produced  by  a landscape,  and  abstnict  entirely  from  the 
pleasure  which  may  result  from  an  accidental  association  of 
ideas  witli  a particular  scene.  The  effect  resulting  from  such 
associations  will  depend,  in  a great  measure,  on  the  liveliness 
with  which  the  associated  objects  are  conceived,  and  on  the 
affecting  nature  of  the  pictures  which  a creative  imagination, 
when  once  roused,  will  present  to  the  mind ; but  the  pleasures 
thus  arising  from  the  accidental  exercise  that  a landscape  may 
give  to  the  imagination,  must  not  be  confounded  with  those 
which  it  is  naturally  fitted  to  produee. 

(2.)  Painting.  — In  painting,  (excepting  in  those  instances  in 
which  it  exhibits  a faithful  copy  of  a particular  object,)  the 
original  idea  must  be  formed  in  the  imagination ; and,  in  most 
cases,  the  exercise  of  imagination  must  concur  with  ‘perception, 
before  the  picture  can  produce  that  effect  on  the  mind  of  the 
spectator  which  the  artist  has  in  view.  Painting,  therefore,  does 
not  belong  entirely  to  either  of  the  two  classes  of  arts  formerly 
mentioned,  but  has  something  in  common  with  them  both. 

As  far  as  the  painter  aims  at  copying  exactly  what  he  sees, 
he  maybe  guided  mechanically  by  general  rules;  and  he  requii-es 
no  aid  from  that  creative  genius  which  is  cbaracteristical  of  the 
poet.  The  pleasure,  however,  which  results  from  painting,  con- 
sidered merely  as  an  imitative  art,  is  extremely  trifling ; and  is 
specifically  different  from  that  which  it  aims  to  produce  by, 
awaking  the  imagination.  Even  in  portrait-painting,  the  servile 
copyist  of  nature  is  regarded  in  no  higher  light  than  that  of  a 
tradesman.  “ Deception,”  as  Reynolds  has  excellently  observed, 
“ instead  of  advancing  the  art,  is,  in  reality  carrying  it  back  to 
its  infant  state.  The  fii’st  essays  of  painting  were  certainly 
nothing  but  mere  imitations  of  individual  objects ; and  when  this 
amounted  to  a deception,  the  artist  bad  accomplished  his  pur 
pose.” 

When  the  history  or  the  landscape  painter  indulges  his  geniu.s 
in  forming  new  combinations  of  his  own,  he  vies  with  the  poet 
in  the  noblest  exertion  of  the  poetical  art;  and  he  avails  him- 
self of  his  professional  skill,  as  the  poet  avails  himself  of  lan- 
guage, only  to  convey  the  ideas  in  his  mind.  To  deceive  the 


IMAGINATION. 


339 


eye  by  accurate  representations  of  particular  forms,  is  no  longer 
bis  aim ; but,  by  the  touches  of  an  expressive  pencil,  to  sjieak 
to  the  imaginations  of  others.  Imitation,  therefore,  is  not  the 
end  which  he  proposes  to  himself,  but  the  means  which  he  em- 
ploys in  order  to  accomplish  it ; nay,  if  the  imitation  be  carried 
so  far  as  to  preclude  all  exercise  of  the  spectator’s  imagination, 
it  will  disappoint,  in  a great  measure,  the  purpose  of  the  artist. 

(3.)  Poetry.  — In  poetry,  and  in  every  other  species  of  com- 
position, in  which  one  person  attempts,  by  means  of  language, 
to  present  to  the  mind  of  another  the  objects  of  his  own  imagina- 
tion, this  power  is  necessary,  though  not  in  the  same  degree,  to 
the  author  and  to  the  reader.  When  we  peruse  a description, 
we  naturally  feel  a disposition  to  form,  in  our  own  minds,  a dis- 
tinct picture  of  what  is  described ; and  in  proportion  to  the 
attention  and  interest  which  the  subject  excites,  the  picture 
becomes  steady  and  determinate.  It  is  scarcely  possible  for  us 
to  hear  much  of  a particular  town  without  forming  some  notion 
of  its  figure  and  size  and  situation ; and  in  reading  history  and 
poetry,  I believe  it  seldom  happens  that  we  do  not  annex  imagi- 
nary appearances  to  the  names  of  our  favorite  characters.  It 
is,  at  the  same  time,  almost  certain,  that  the  imaginations  of  no 
two  men  coincide  upon  such  occasions  ; and,  therefore,  though 
both  may  be  pleased,  the  agreeable  impressions  which  they  feel, 
.may  be  widely  different  from  each  other,  according  as  the  pir 
tures  by  which  they  are  produced  are  more  or  less  happily 
imagined.  Hence  it  is,  that  when  a person  accustomed  to 
dramatic  reading  sees,  for  the  first  time,  one  of  his  favorite 
characters  represented  on  the  stage,  he  is  generally  dissatisfied 
with  the  exhibition,  however  eminent  the  actor  may  be ; and  if 
he  should  happen,  before  this  representation,  to  have  been  veiy 
familiarly  acquainted  with  the  character,  the  case  may  continue 
to  be  the  same  through  life.  For  my  own  part,  I have  never 
received  from  any  Falstaff  on  the  stage  half  the  pleasure  which 
Shakspeare  gives  me  in  the  closet ; and  I am  persuaded  that  I 
should  feel  some  degree  of  uneasiness,  if  I were  present  at  any 
attempt  to  personate  the  figure  or  the  voice  of  Don  Quixote  or 
Sancho  Panza.  It  is  not  always  that  the  actoi’,  on  such  occa- 


310 


IMAGINATION. 


sions,  falls  short  of  our  expectation.  He  disappoints  ns,  by 
exhibiting  something  different  from  what  our  imagination  'had 
anticipated,  and  which  consequently  appears  to  us,  at  the  mo- 
ment, to  be  an  unfaithful  representation  of  the  poet’s  idea ; and 
until  a frequent  repetition  of  the  performance  has  completely 
obliterated  our  former  impressions,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  form 
an  adequate  estimate  of  its  merit. 

Similar  observations  may  be  applied  to  other  subjects.  The 
sight  of  any  natural  scene,  or  of  any  work  of  art,  provided  we 
have  not  previously  heard  of  it,  commonly  produces  a greater 
effect  at  first,  than  ever  afterwards : but  if,  in  consequence  of  a 
description,  we  have  been  led  to  form  a previous  notion  of  it,  I 
apprehend,  the  effect  will  be  found  less  pleasing  the,  first  time 
it  is  seen,  than  the  second.  Although  the  description  should 
fall  short  greatly  of  the  reality,  yet  the  disappointment  which 
we  feel,  on  meeting  with  something  different  from  what  we  ex- 
pected, diminishes  our  satisfaction.  The  second  time  we  see 
the  scene,  the  effect  of  novelty  is,  indeed,  less  than  befox’e  ; but 
it  is  still  considerable,  and  the  imagination  now  anticipates 
nothing  which  is  not  realized  in  the  perception. 

Why  poetry  is  not  so  generally  relished  as  landscape  garden- 
ing. — The  remarks  which  have  been  made,  afford  a satisfactory 
reason  why  so  few  are  to  be  found  who  have  a genuine  relish 
for  the  beauties  of  poetiy.  The  designs  of  Kent  and  of  Brown 
[distinguished  landscape  gardeners]  evince  in  their  authors  a 
degree  of  imagination  entirely  analogous  to  that  of  the  descrip- 
tive poet ; but  when  they  are  once  executed,  their  beauties 
(excepting  those  which  result  from  association)  meet  the  eye  of 
every  spectator.  In  poetry,  the  effect  is  inconsiderable,  unless 
upon  a mind  which  possesses  some  degree  of  the  author’s  gen- 
ius ; a mind  amply  furnished,  by  its  previous  habits,  with  the 
means  of  interpreting  the  language  which  he  employs ; and 
able,  by  its  own  imagination,  to  cooperate  with  the  efforts  of  his 
art. 

Different  ideas  raised  hy  the  same  words  in  different  minds.  — ■ 
It  has  been  often  remarked,  that  the  general  words  which  ex- 
press complex  ideas,  seldom  convey  precisely  the  same  meaning 


IMAGINATION. 


341 


to  different  individuals,  and  that  hence  arises  much  of  the  amhi- 
guit  j of  language.  The  same  observation  holds,  in  no  inconsid- 
erable degree,  with  respect  to  the  names  of  sensible  objects. 
When  the  words  river,  mountain,  grove,  occur  in  a description, 
a person  of  lively  conceptions  naturally  thinks  of  some  particu- 
lar river,  mountain,  and  grove,  that  have  made  an  impression 
on  his  mind ; and  whatever  the  notions  are,  which  he  is  led  by 
his  imagination  to  form  of  these  objects,  they  must  necessarily 
approach  to  the  standard  of  what  he  has  seen.  Hence  it  is  evi- 
dent that,  according  to  the  different  habits  and  education  of  in- 
dividuals, according  to  the  liveliness  of  their  conceptions,  and 
according  to  the  creative  power  of  their  imaginations,  the  same 
words  wdll  produce  very  different  effects  on  different  minds. 
When  a person  who  has  received  his  education  in  the  country, 
reads  a description  of  a rural  retirement,  the  house,  the  river, 
the  woods,  to  which  he  was  first  accustomed,  present  themselves 
spontaneously  to  his  conception,  accompanied,  perhaps,  with  the 
recollection  of  his  early  friendships,  and  all  those  pleasing  ideas 
which  are  commonly  associated  w'ith  the  scenes  of  childhood 
and  of  youth.  How  different  is  the  effect  of  the  description 
upon  his  mind,  from  what  it  wmuld  produce  on  one  who  has 
passed  his  tender  years  at  a distance  from  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, and  whose  infant  sports  are  connected  in  his  memory  with 
the  gloomy  alleys  of  a commercial  city ! 

But  it  is  not  only  in  interpreting  the  particular  words  of  a 
description,  that  the  powers  of  imagination  and  conception  are 
employed.  They  are  further  necessary  for  filling  up  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  that  picture,  of  which  the  most  minute  describer  can 
only  trace  the  outline.  In  the  best  description,  there  is  much 
left  to  the  reader  to  supply ; and  the  effect  which  it  produces  on 
his  mind  will  depend,  in  a considerable  degree,  on  the  invention 
and  taste  with  which  the  picture  is  finished.  It  is  therefore 
possible,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  happiest  efforts  of  poetical 
genius  may  be  perused  with  perfect  indifference  by  a man  of 
sound  judgment,  and  not  destitute  of  natural  sensibility ; and  on 
the  other  hand,  that  a cold  and  common-place  description  may 

29* 


342 


IMAGINATION. 


be  the  means  of  awakening,  in  a rich  and  glowing  imagination, 
a degree  of  enthusiasm  unknown  to  the  author. 

The  object  of  all  the  fine  arts  is  to  please.  — All  the  different 
arts,  which  I have  hitherto  mentioned  as  taking  their  rise  from 
the  imagination,  have  this  in  common,  that  their  primary  object 
is  to  please.  This  observation  applies  to  the  art  of  poetry,  no 
less  than  to  the  others ; nay,  it  is  this  circumstance  which  char- 
aeterizes  poetry,  and  distinguishes  it  from  all  the  other  classes 
of  litei'ary  composition.  The  object  of  the  philosopher  is  to  in- 
form and  enlighten  mankind ; that  of  the  orator.,  to  acquire  an 
ascendant  over  the  will  of  others,  by  bending  to  his  own  pur- 
poses their  judgments,  their  imaginations,  and  their  passions : 
but  the  primary  and  the  distinguishing  aim  of  the  poet  is,  to 
please ; and  the  principal  resoui'ce  which  he  possesses  for  this 
purpose,  is  by  addressing  the  imagination.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
he  may  seem  to  encroach  on  the  province  of  the  philosopher  or 
of  the  orator ; but,  in  these  instances,  he  only  borrows  from 
them  the  means  by  wliich  he  accomplishes  his  end.  If  he  at- 
tempts to  enlighten  and  to  inform,  he  addresses  the  understand- 
ing only  as  a vehicle  of  pleasure ; if  he  makes  an  appeal  to  tlie 
passions,  it  is  only  to  passions  which  it  is  pleasing  to  indulge. 
The  philosopher,  in  like  manner,  in  order  to  accomplish  his  end 
of  instruction,  may  find  it  expedient,  occasionally,  to  amuse  the 
imagination,  or  to  make  an  appeal  to  the  passions ; the  orator 
may,  at  one  time,  state  to  his  hearers  a process  of  reasoning  ; at 
another,  a calm  narrative  of  facts ; and  at  a third,  he  may  give 
the  reins  to  poetical  fancy.  But  still  the  ultimate  end  of  the 
philosopher  is  to  instruct,  and  of  the  author  to  persuade ; and 
whatever  means  they  make  use  of  which  are  not  subservient  to 
this  purpose,  are  out  of  place,  and  obstruct  the  eflTect  of  their 
labors. 

Why  rhythmical  language  is  employed.  — The  measured  com- 
position in  which  the  poet  expresses  himself,  is  only  one  of  the 
means  which  he  employs  to  please.  As  the  delight  which  he 
conveys  to  the  imagination  is  heightened  by  the  other  agreeable 
impressions,  which  he  can  unite  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time ; 


IMAGINATION. 


3-.t3 

lie  studies  to  bestow,  upon  the  medium  of  communication  wliicb 
he  employs,  all  the  various  beauties  of  which  it  is  susceptible. 
Among  these  beauties,  the  harmony  of  numbers  is  not  the  least 
powerful ; for  its  effect  is  constant,  and  does  not  interfere  with 
any  of  the  other  pleasures  which  language  produces.  A suc- 
cession of  agreeable  perceptions  is  kept  up  by  the  organical 
effect  of  words  upon  the  ear ; while  they  inform  the  understand- 
ing by  their  perspicuity  and  precision,  or  please  the  imagination 
by  the  pictures  they  suggest,  or  touch  the  heart  by  the  associa- 
tions they  awaken.  Of  all  these  charms  of  language  the  poet 
may  avail  himself;  and  they  are  all  so  many  instruments  of  his 
art.  To  the  philosopher  and  the  orator,  they  may  occasionally 
be  of  use  ; and  to  both,  they  must  be  constantly  so  far  an  object 
of  attention,  that  nothing  may  occur  in  their  compositions,  which 
may  distract  the  thoughts,  by  offending  either  the  ear  or  the 
taste  ; but  the  poet  must  not  rest  satisfied  wdth  this  negative 
praise.  Pleasure  is  the  end  of  his  art ; and  the  more  numerous 
the  sources  of  it  which  he  can  open,  the  greater  wiU  be  the  effect 
produced  by  the  efforts  of  his  genius. 

Poetry  has  a wider  range  than  the  other  fine  arts.  — The  prov- 
ince of  the  poet  is  limited  only  by  the  variety  of  human  enjoy- 
ments. Whatever  is,  in  the  reality,  subservient  to  our  happiness, 
is  a source  of  pleasure  when  presented  to  our  conceptions,  and 
may  sometimes  derive  from  the  heightenings  of  imagination  a 
momentary  charm,  which  we  exchange  with  reluctance  for  the 
substantial  gratification  of  the  senses.  The  province  of  the 
painter  and  of  the  statuary  is  confined  to  the  imitation  of  visible 
objects,  and  to  the  exhibition  of  such  intellectual  and  moral 
qualities,  as  the  human  body  is  fitted  to  express.  In  ornamen- 
tal architecture,  and  in  ornamental  gardening,  the  sole  aim  of 
the  artist  is  to  give  pleasure  to  the  eye,  by  the  beauty  or  sub- 
hmity  of  material  forms.  But  to  the  poet,  all  the  glories  of  ex- 
ternal nature  ; all  that  is  amiable,  or  interesting,  or  respectable 
in  human  character ; all  that  excites  and  engages  our  benevo- 
lent affections ; all  those  truths  which  make  the  heart  feel  itself 
better  and  more  happy;  — all  thesfe  supply  materials,  out  of  which 
he  forms  and  peoples  a world  of  his  own,  where  no  inconven- 


344 


IMAGINATION. 


iences  damp  our  enjoyments,  and  where  no  clouds  darhen  our 
prospects. 

Edmund  Burhe's  theory  of  poetry  stated  and  controverted. — 
That  the  pleasures  of  poetry  arise  chiefly  from  the  agreeable 
feelings  which  it  conveys  to  the  mind,  by  awakening  the  imag- 
ination, is  a proposition  which  may  seem  too  obvious  to  stand 
in  need  of  ju’oof.  As  the  ingenious  inquirer,  however,  into 
“ the  Origin  of  our  Ideas  of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful,”  [Ed- 
mund Bui’ke,]  has  disputed  the  common  notions  on  this  subject, 
I shall  consider  some  of  the  principal  arguments  by  which  he 
has  supported  his  opinion. 

The  leading  principle  of  the  theory  which  I am  now  to  ex- 
amine is,  “ That  the  common  effect  of  poetry  is  not  to  raise  ideas 
of  thinys  or,  as  I would  rather  choose  to  express  it,  its  com- 
mon effect  is  not  to  give  exercise  to  the  powers  of  conception 
and  imagination.  That  I may  not  be  accused  of  misrepresen- 
tation, I shall  state  the  doctrine  at  length  in  the  words  of  tlie 
author.  “If  words  have  all  their  possible  extent  of  power, 
tliree  effects  arise  in  the  mind  of  the  heai'ft'.  The  first  is  the 
sound,  the  second,  the  picture  or  representation  of  the  thing  sig- 
nified by  the  sound,  the  third  is,  the  affection  of  the  soul  pro- 
duced by  one  or  by  both  of  the  foregoing.  Compounded  ab- 
stract words,  (honor,  justice,  liberty,  and  the  like,)  produce  the 
first  and  the  last  of  these  effects,  but  not  the  second.  Simple 
abstracts  are  used  to  signify  some  one  simple  idea,  without  miich 
adverting  to  others  which  may  chance  to  attend  it ; as  blue, 
(jreen,  hot,  cold,  and  the  like : these  are  capable  of  aflPecting  all 
tliree  of  the  purposes  of  words ; as  the  aggregate  words,  man, 
castle,  horse,  etc.  are,  in  a yet  higher  degree.  But  I am  of  opin- 
ion, that  the  most  general  effect  even  of  these  words  does  not 
arise  from  their  forming  pictures  of  the  general  things  they 
would  represent  in  the  imagination ; because,  on  a very  diligent 
examination  of  my  own  mind,  and  getting  others  to  consider 
theirs,  I do  not  find  that,  once  in  twenty  times,  any  such  picture 
is  formed ; and  when  it  is,  there  is  most  commonly  a particular 
effort  of  the  imagination  for  that  purpose.  But  the  aggregate 
words  operate,  as  I said  of  the  compound  abstracts,  not  by  pre- 


IMAGINATION. 


345 


senting  any  image  to  the  mind,  but  by  having,  from  use,  the 
same  effect  on  being  mentioned,  that  their  original  has  when  it 
is  seen.  Suppose  we  were  to  read  a passage  to  this  effect : 
‘ The  river  Danube  rises  in  a moist  and  mountainous  soil  in  the 
heart  of  Germany,  where,  winding  to  and  fro,  it  waters  several 
principalities,  until,  turning  into  Austria,  and  leaving  the  walls 
of  Vienna,  it  passes  into  Hungary ; there,  with  a vast  flood,  aug- 
mented by  the  Saave  and  the  Drave,  it  quits  Christendom,  and, 
rolling  through  the  barbarous  countries  which  border  on  Tar- 
tary,  it  enters  by  many  mouths  into  the  Black  Sea.’  In  this  de- 
scription, many  things  are  mentioned ; as  mountains,  rivers,  cit- 
ies, the  sea,  etc.  But  let  anybody  examine  himself,  and  see 
whether  he  has  had  impressed  on  his  imagination  any  pictures 
of  a river,  mountain,  watery  soil,  Germany,  etc.  Indeed,  it  is 
impossible,  in  the  rapidity  and  quick  succession  of  words  in  con- 
versation, to  have  ideas  both  of  the  sound  of  the  word,  and  of 
the  thing  represented ; besides,  some  words  expressing  real  es- 
sences are  so  mixed  with  others  of  a general  and  nominal  im- 
port, that  it  is  impracticable  to  jump  from  sense  to  thought,  from 
particulars  to  generals,  from  things  to  words,  in  such  a manner 
as  to  answer  the  purposes  of  life  ; nor  is  it  necessary  that  we 
should.” 

In  further  confirmation  of  this  doctrine,  hlr.  Burke  refers  to 
the  poetical  works  of  the  late  amiable  and  ingenious  Dr.  Black- 
lock  [the  blind  poet].  Here”  says  he,  “is  a poet,  doubtless  as 
much  affected  by  his  own  descriptions  as  any  that  reads  them  can 
be  ; and  yet  he  is  affected  with  this  strong  enthusiasm,  by  things 
of  which  he  neither  has,  nor  can  possibly  have,  any  idea,  further 
than  that  of  a bare  sound ; and  why  may  not  those  who  read 
his  works  be  affected  in  the  same  manner  that  he  was,  with  as 
little  of  any  real  ideas  of  the  things  described  ? ” 

Some  words  do  not  raise  ideas,  but  only  excite  emotions.  — Be- 
fore I proceed  to  make  any  remarks  on  these  passages,  I must 
observe  in  general,  that  I perfectly  agree  with  Mr.  Burke,  in 
thinking  that  a very  great  proportion  of  the  words  which  we 
habitually  employ,  have  no  effect  to  raise  ideas  in  the  mind ; or 
to  exercise  the  powers  of  conception  and  imagination.  My  no 


346 


IMAGINATION. 


tions  on  tliis  subject  I have  already  sufficiently  explained  in 
treating  of  abstraction. 

I agree  with  him  further,  that  a great  proportion  of  the  words 
which  are  used  in  poetry  and  eloquence,  more  especially,  I think, 
in  the  latter,  produce  very  powerful  effects  on  the  mind,  by  ex- 
citing emotions  which  we  have  heen  accustomed  to  associate 
with  particular  sounds,  without  leading  the  imagination  to  form 
to  itself  any  pictures  or  representations ; and  his  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  such  words  ojierate,  appears  to  me  satisfactory. 
“ Such  words  are,  in  reality,  but  mere  sounds  ; but  they  are 
sounds,  which,  being  used  on  particular  occasions,  wherein  we 
receive  some  good,  or  suffer  some  evil ; or  see  others  affected 
with  good  or  evil ; or  which  we  hear  applied  to  other  interesting 
things  or  events ; and  being  applied  in  such  a variety  of  cases 
tliat  we  know  readily  by  habit  to  what  things  they  belong,  they 
produce  in  the  mind,  whenever  they  are  afterwards  mentioned, 
effects  similar  to  those  of  their  occasions.  The  sounds  being 
often  used  without  reference  to  any  particular  occasion,  and 
cari’ying  still  their  first  imiiressions,  they  at  last  utteidy  lose 
their  connection  with  the  particular  occasions  that  gave  rise  to 
them  ; yet  the  sound,  without  any  annexed  notion,  continues  to 
operate  as  before.” 

But  toords  in  poetry  must  raise  emotions  and  ideas  also.  — 
Notwithstanding,  however,  these  concessions,  I cannot  admit  that 
it  is  in  this  way  poetry  produces  its  principal  effect.  Whence 
is  it  that  general  and  abstract  expressions  are  so  tame  and  life- 
less, in  comparison  of  those  which  are  particular  and  figurative? 
Is  it  not  because  the  former  do  not  give  any  exercise  to  the  im- 
agination, like  the  latter?  Whence  the  distinction,  acknowl- 
edged by  all  critics  ancient  and  modern,  between  that  charm  of 
words  which  evaporates  in  the  process  of  translation,  and  those 
permanent  beauties,  which,  presenting  to  the  mind  the  distinct- 
ness of  a picture,  may  impart  pleasure  to  the  most  remote  re- 
gions and  ages  ? Is  it  not,  that  in  the  one  case,  the  poet  ad- 
dresses himself  to  associations  which  are  local  and  temporary, 
in  the  other,  to  those  essential  principles  of  human  nature,  from 
which  poetry  and  painting  derive  their  common  attractions? 


IMAGINATION. 


347 


Hence,  among  the  various  sources  of  the  sublime,  the  peculiar 
stress  laid  by  Longinus  on  what  he  calls  Visions,  {favraaiai)  — 
urav  a ?Iy7]s  v-k’  h^mmaaiiov  sal  Trddoaf  dosjjs,  sac  inf  dijjiv  Ti&7}C 

race  uKovoLv,  [when  you  seem,  from  enthusiasm  and  strong  feeling, 
actually  to  see  the  things  spoken  of,  and  to  place  them  before 
the  eyes  of  your  hearers.] 

Different  aims  of  philosophical  and  rhetorical  composition.  — 
In  treating  of  abstraction,  I formerly  remarked,  that  the  perfec- 
tion of  2diilosophical  style  is  to  approach  as  nearly  as  possible 
to  that  species  of  language  we  employ  in  algebra,  and  to  exclude 
every  expression  which  has  a tendency  to  divert  the  attention  by 
exciting  the  imagination,  or  to  bias  the  judgment  by  casual 
associations.  For  this  purpose,  the  philosopher  ought  to  be 
sparing  in  the  employment  of  figurative  words,  and  to  convey 
his  notions  by  general  terms  which  have  been  accurately  defined. 
To  the  orator,  on  the  other  hand,  when  he  wishes  to  jirevent  the 
cool  exercise  of  the  understanding,  it  may,  on  the  same  account, 
be  frequently  useful  to  delight  or  to  agitate  his  hearers,  by 
blending  with  his  reasonings  the  illusions  of  poetry,  or  the  magi- 
cal influence  of  sounds  consecrated  by  jinpular  feelings.  A 
regard  to  the  different  ends  thus  aimed  at  in  philosophical  and 
in  rhetorical  compiosition,  renders  the  ornaments  which  are  so 
becoming  in  the  one,  inconsistent  with  good  taste  and  good  sense 
when  adojited  in  the  other. 

In  poetry,  as  truths  and  facts  are  introduced,  not  for  the  pur- 
pose of  information,  but  to  convey  jileasure  to  the  mind,  nothing 
offends  more,  than  those  general  expressions  which  form  the 
great  instrument  of  philosophical  reasoning.  The  original 
pleasures,  which  it  is  the  aim  of  poetry  to  recall  to  the  mind, 
are  all  derived  from  individual  objects ; and,  of  consequence, 
(with  a very  few  exceptions,  which  it  does  not  belong  to  my 
present  subject  to  enumerate,)  the  more  particular  and  the  more 
appropriated  its  language  is,  the  greater  will  be  the  charm  it  pos- 
sesses. 

With  respect  to  the  description  of  the  course  of  the  Danube 
already  quoted,  I shall  not  dispute  the  result  of  the  experiment 
to  be  as  the  author  represents  it.  That  words  may  often  be 


348 


IMAGINATION. 


applied  to  tlieir  proper  purposes,  without  our  annexing  any 
partieular  notions  to  them,  I have  formerly  shown  at  great 
length ; and  I admit  that  the  meaning  of  this  description  may 
he  so  understood.  But  to  be  understood  is  not  the  sole  object  ji 
of  the  poet ; his  primary  object  is  to  please ; and  the  pleasure  ! 
which  he  conveys  will,  in  general,  be  found  to  be  proportioned 
to  the  beauty  and  liveliness  of  the  images  which  he  suggests.  li 

In  the  case  of  a poet  born  blind,  the  effect  of  poetry  must  | 

depend  on  other  causes ; but  whatever  opinion  we  may  form  on  I 

this  point,  it  appears  to  me  impossible  that  such  a poet  should 
receive,  even  from  his  own  descriptions,  the  same  degree  of 
pleasure  which  they  may  convey  to  a reader  who  is  capable  of  :| 
conceiving  the  scenes  which  are  described.  Indeed,  this  instance 
which  Mr.  Burke  produces  in  support  of  his  theory,  is  sufficient  j 
of  itself  to  show,  that  the  theory  cannot  be  true  in  the  extent  in 
which  it  is  stated.  || 

Great  effect  of  picturesque  phraseology  in  poetry.  — By  way  | 

of  contrast  to  the  description  of  the  Danube,  I shall  quote  a i| 

.stanza  from  Gi’ay,  which  affords  a very  beautiful  example  of  | 

the  two  different  effects  of  jioetical  expression.  The  pleasure  j' 

conveyed  by  the  two  last  lines  resolves  almost  entirely  into  Mr.  jj 

Burke’s  principles ; but  great  as  this  pleasure  is,  how  inconsider-  | 

able  is  it,  in  comparison  of  that  arising  from  the  continued  and 
varied  exercise  which  the  preceding  lines  give  to  the  imagina-  j| 
tion.  I 

“ In  climes  beyond  the  solar  road, 

Wliere  shaggy  forms  o’er  ice-built  mountains  roam, 

The  Muse  has  broke  the  twilight-gloom. 

To  cheer  the  shiv’ring  native’s  dull  abode.  ij 

And  oft,  beneath  the  od’rous  shade  I' 

Of  Chili’s  boundless  forests  laid,  « 

She  deigns  to  hear  the  savage  youth  repeat. 

In  loose  numbers  wildly  sweet, 

Tlieir  foather-cinetur’d  chiefs  and  dusky  loves.  ; 

Her  track,  where’er  the  goddess  roves,  , 

Glory  pursue,  and  generous  shame, 

Th’  unconquerable  mind,  and  freedom’s  holy  flame.”  | 

I cannot  help  remarking  further,  the  effect  of  the  solemn  and  i: 


IMAGIN'ATION. 


3 49 

uniform  flow  of  the  verse  in  this  exquisite  stanza,  in  retarding 
the  pronunciation  of  the  reader,  so  as  to  arrest  his  attention  to 
every  successive  picture,  till  it  has  time  to  produce  its  proper 
impression.  More  of  the  charm  of  poetical  rhythm  axdses  from 
this  circumstance,  than  is  commonly  imagined. 

To  those  who  wish  to  study  the  theory  of  poetical  expression, 
no  author  in  our  language  affords  a richer  variety  of  illustra- 
tions than  the  poet  last  quoted.  His  merits,  in  many  other 
respects,  are  great;  but  his  skill  in  this  particular  is  more 
peculiarly  conspicuous.  How  much  he  had  made  the  principles 
of  this  branch  of  his  art  an  object  of  study,  appears  from  his 
letters  published  by  Mr.  Mason. 

I have  sometimes  thought,  that,  in  the  last  line  of  the  follow- 
ing passage,  he  had  in  view  the  two  different  effects  of  words 
already  described ; the  effect  of  some,  in  awakening  the  powers 
of  conception  and  imagination ; and  that  of  others,  in  exciting 
associated  emotions : — 

“ Hark,  his  hands  the  lyre  explore  ! 

Bright-ey’d  Fancy,  hovering  o’er. 

Scatters  from  her  pictur’d  urn 

Thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn.” 

III.  Relation  of  imagination  and  of  taste  to  genius.  — F rom 
the  remarks  made  in  the  foregoing  sections,  it  is  obvious,  in  what 
manner  a person  accustomed  to  analyze  and  combine  his  con- 
ceptions, may  acquire  an  idea  of  beauties  superior  to  any 
which  he  has  seen  realized.  It  may  also  be  easily  inferred,  that 
a habit  of  forming  such  intellectual  combinations,  and  of  remark- 
ing their  effects  on  our  own  minds,  must  contribute  to  refine  and 
to  exalt  the  taste,  to  a degree  which  it  never  can  attain  in  those 
men,  who  study  to  improve  it  by  the  observation  and  comparison 
of  external  objects  only. 

What  constitutes  genius  in  the  fine  arts.  — A cultivated  taste, 
combined  with  a creative  imagination,  constitutes  genius  in  the 
fine  arts.  Without  taste,  imagination  could  produce  only  a 
random  analysis  and  combination  of  our  conceptions  ; and  with- 
out imagination,  taste  would  be  destitute  of  the  faculty  of 
invention.  These  two  ingredients  of  genius  may  be  mixed 

30 


350 


IMAGINATION. 


together  in  all  possible  proportions ; and  whtre  either  is  pos- 
sessed in  a degree  remarkably  exceeding  what  falls  to  the 
ordinary  share  of  mankind,  it  may  comjiensate,  in  some  measure, 
for  a deficiency  in  the  other.  An  uncommonly  correct  taste, 
with  little  imagination,  if  it  does  not  produce  works  which  excite 
admiration,  produces  at  least  nothing  which  can  offend.  An 
uncommon  fertility  of  imagination,  even  when  it  offends,  excites 
our  wonder  by  its  creative  power ; and  shows  what  it  could 
have  performed,  had  its  exertions  been  guided  by  a more  perfect 
model. 

In  the  infancy  of  the  arts,  a union  of  these  two  powers  in  the 
same  mind  is  necessary  for  the  production  of  every  work  of 
genius.  Taste,  without  imagination,  is,  in  such  a situation,  im- 
possible ; for,  as  there  are  no  monuments  of  ancient  genius  on 
which  it  can  be  formed,  it  must  be  the  result  of  experiments, 
which  nothing  but  the  imagination  of  every  individual  can  enable 
him  to  make.  Such  a taste  must  necessarily  be  imperfect,  in 
consequence  of  the  limited  experience  of  which  it  is  the  result ; 
but,  without  imagination,  it  could  not  have  been  acquired  even 
in  this  imperfect  degree. 

In  the  progress  of  the  arts,  the  case  comes  to  be  altered. 
The  productions  of  genius  accumulate  to  such  an  extent,  that 
taste  may  be  formed  by  a careful  study  of  the  works  of  others ; 
and,  as  formerly  imagination  had  served  as  a necessary  founda- 
tion for  taste,  so  taste  begins  now  to  invade  the  province  of 
imagination.  The  eombinations  which  the  latter  faculty  has 
been  employed  in  making,  during  a long  succession  of  ages, 
approach  to  infinity;  and  present  such  ample  materials  to  a 
judicious  selection,  that,  with  a high  standard  of  excellence 
continually  present  to  the  thoughts,  industry,  assisted  by  the 
most  moderate  degree  of  imagination,  will,  in  time,  produce  per- 
formances not  only  more  free  from  faults,  but  incomparably 
more  powerful  in  their  effects,  than  the  most  original  efforts  of 
untutored  genius,  which,  guided  by  an  uncultivated  taste,  copies 
after  an  inferior  model  of  perfection.  What  Reynolds  observes 
of  painting,  may  be  applied  to  all  the  other  fine  arts ; that  “ as 
the  painter,  by  bringing  together,  in  one  piece,  those  beauties, 


IMAGINATION. 


351 


which  arc  dispersed  amongst  a great  variety  of  individuals,  pro- 
duces a figure  more  beautiful  than  can  be  found  in  nature ; so 
that  artist  who  can  unite  in  himself  the  excellences  of  the  various 
painters,  will  approach  nearer  to  perfection  than  any  of  his 
masters.” 

IV.  Of  the  influence  of  imagination  on  human  character  and 
happiness.  — Hitherto  we  have  considered  the  power  of  imagi- 
nation chiefly  as  it  is  connected  with  the  fine  arts.  But  it 
deserves  our  attention  still  more,  on  account  of  its  extensive 
influence  on  human  character  and  happiness.  ^ 

The  lower  animals,  as  far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  are 
entirely  occupied  with  the  objects  of  their  present  perceptions ; 
and  the  case  is  nearly  the  same  with  the  inferior  orders  of  our 
own  species.  One  of  the  principal  effects  which  a liberal  edu- 
cation produces  on  the  mind,  is,  to  accustom  us  to  withdraw  our 
attention  from  the  objects- of  sense,  and  to  direct  it  at  pleasure 
to  those  intellectual  combinations  which  delight  the  imagination. 
Even,  however,  among  men  of  cultivated  understandings,  this 
faculty  is  possessed  in  very  unequal  degrees  by  different  indi- 
viduals ; and  these  differences  (\\diether  resulting  from  original 
constitution  or  from  early  education)  lay  the  foundation  of  some 
striking  varieties  in  human  character. 

Sensibility  dependent  on;  imagination.  — What  we  commonly 
call  sensibility  depends  in  a great  measure  on  the  power  of 
imagination.  Point  out  to  two  men  any  object  of  compassion ; — 
a man,  for  example,  reduced  by  misfortune  from  easy  circum- 
stances to  indigence.  The  one  feels  merely  in  proportion  to 
what  he  perceives  by  his  senses.  The  other  follows,  in  imagi- 
nation, the  unfortunate  man  to  his  dwelling,  and  partakes  with 
him  and  his  family  in  their  domestic  distresses.  He  listens  to 
their  conversation,  while  they  recall  to  remembrance  the  flatter- 
ing prospects  they  once  indulged ; the  circle  of  friends  they 
had  been  forced  to  leave ; the  liberal  plans  of  education  which 
were  begun  and  interrupted ; and  pictures  out  to  himself  all  tlie 
various  resources  which  delicacy  and  pride  suggest  to  conceal 
poverty  from  the  world.  As  he  proceeds  in  the  painting,  his 


IMAGINATION. 


sensibility  increases,  and  be  weeps,  not  for  what  he  sees,  hut  for 
what  lie  imagines.  It  will  be  said  that  it  was  his  sensibility 
which  originally  roused  his  imagination ; and  the  observation  is 
undoubtedly  true  ; but  it  is  equally  evident,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  the  warmth  of  his  imagination  increases  and  prolongs  his 
sensibility. 

This  is  beautifully  illustrated  in  the  Sentimental  Journey  of 
Sterne.  While  engaged  in  a train  of  reflections  on  the  state- 
prisons  in  France,  the  accidental  sight  of  a starling  in  a cage 
suggests  to  him  the  idea  of  a captive  in  his  dungeon.  He  in- 
dulges his  imagination,  “ and  looks  through  the  twilight  of  the 
grated  door  to  take  the  picture.” 

“ I beheld,”  says  he,  “ his  body  half  wasted  away  with  long 
expectation  and  confinement,  and  felt  what  kind  of  sickness  of 
the  heart  it  is,  which  aidses  from  hope  deferred.  Upon  looking 
nearer,  I saw  him  pale  and  feverish  : in  thirty  yeai’s,  the  western 
breeze  had  not  once  fanned  his  blood  : he  had  seen  no  sun,  no 
moon,  in  all  that  time,  nor  had  the  voice  of  friend  or  kinsman 
breathed  through  his  lattice.  Ilis  children  — But  here  my 
heart  began  to  bleed,  and  I was  forced  to  go  on  with  another 
part  of  the  portrait. 

“ He  was  sitting  upon  the  gi’ound,  in  the  furthest  corner  of 
his  dungeon,  on  a little  straw,  which  was  alternately  his  chair 
and  bed : a little  calendar  of  small  sticks  was  laid  at  the  head, 
notched  all  over  with  the  dismal  days  and  nights  he  had  passed 
there  ; he  had  one  of  these  little  sticks  in  his  hand,  and  with  a 
rusty  nail,  was  etching  another  day  of  misery  to  add  to  the  heap. 
As  I darkened,  the  little  light  he  had,  he  lifted  up  a hopeless 
eye  towards  the  door,  then  cast  it  down,  shook  his  head,  and 
went  on  with  his  work  of  afiliction.” 

Why  pity  is  excited  hy  fiction  more  than  by  reality.  — The 
foregoing  observations  may  account,  in  part,  for  the  effect  which 
exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress  produce  on  some  persons,  who 
do  not  discover  much  sensibility  to  the  distresses  of  real  life. 
In  a novel  or  a tragedy,  the  picture  is  completely  finished  in  aU 
its  parts  ; and  we  are  made  acquainted  not  only  with  ev<;ry  cir- 


IMAGINATION. 


O “ O 

OOO 

oumstance  on  which  the  distress  turns,  but  with  the  sentiments 
and  feelings  of  every  character,  with  respect  to  his  situation. 
In  real  life,  we  see,  in  general,  only  detached  scenes  of  the  trag- 
edy; and  the  impression  is  slight  unless  imagination  finishes 
the  characters,  and  supplies  the  incidents  that  are  wanting. 

Imagination  increases  our  sympathy  with  others.  — It  is  not 
only  to  scenes  of  distress  that  imagination  increases  our  sensi- 
bility. It  gives  us  a double  share  in  the  prosperity  of  others, 
and  enables  us  to  partake  with  a more  lively  interest  in  every 
fortunate  incident  that  occurs  either  to  individuals  or  to  commu- 
nities. Even  from  the  productions  of  the  earth  and  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  year,  it  carries  forward  our  thoughts  to  the  enjoy- 
ments they  bring  to  the  sensitive  creation,  and  by  interesting 
our  benevolent  affections  in  the  scenes  we  behold,  lends  a new 
charm  to  the  beauties  of  nature. 

I have  often  been  inclined  to  think,  that  the  apparent  coldness 
and  selfishness  of  mankind  may  be  traced,  in  a great  measure, 
to  a want  of  attention  and  a want  of  imagination.  In  the  case 
of  misfortunes  which  happen  to  ourselves,  or  to  our  near  con- 
nections, neither  of  these  p>owers  is  necessary  to  make  us  ac- 
quainted with  our  situation : so  that  we  feel,  of  necessity,  the 
correspondent  emotions.  But  without  an  uncommon  degree  of 
both,  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  comprehend  completely  the 
situation  of  his  neighbor,  or  to  have  an  idea  of  a great  part  of 
the  distress  which  exists  in  the  world.  If  we  feel,  therefoi’e, 
more  for  ourselves  than  for  others,  the  difference  is  to  be  as- 
cribed, at  least  partly,  to  this ; that,  in  the  former  case,  the 
facts  which  are  the  foundation  of  our  feelings,  are  more  fully 
before  us  than  they  possibly  can  be  in  the  latter. 

In  order  to  prevent  misapprehensions  of  my  meaning,  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  add,  that  I do  not  mean  to  deny  that  it  is  a 
law  of  our  nature,  in  cases  in  which  there  is  an  interference  be- 
tween our  own  interest  and  that  of  other  men,  to  give  a certain 
degree  of  preference  to  ourselves ; even  supposing  our  neigh- 
bor’s situation  to  be  as  completely  known  to  us  as  our  own.  I 
only  afiirm,  that,  where  this  preference  becomes  blamable  and 
unjust,  the  effect  is  to  be  accounted  for  partly  in  the  way  I men- 

30*- 


354 


IMAGINATION. 


tionecl.*  One  striking  proof  of  this  is,  the  powerful  emotions 
which  may  be  occasionally  excited  in  the  minds  of  the  most  cal- 
lous, when  the  attention  has  been  once  fixed,  and  the  imagina- 
tion awakened  by  eloquent,  and  circumstantial,  and  pathetic  de- 
scription. 

Adam  Smith  traces  the  sense  of  justice  to  a regard  for  the 
ojnnion  of  others.  — A very  amiable  and  profound  moralist,  in 
the  account  which  he  has  given  of  the  origin  of  our  sense  of 
justice,  has,  I think,  drawn  a less  pleasing  picture  of  the  natural 
constitution  of  the  human  mind,  than  is  agreeable  to  truth.  “ To 
disturb,”  says  he,  “ the  happiness  of  our  neighbor,  merely  be- 
cause it  stands  in  the  way  of  our  own ; to  take  from  him  what 
is  of  real  use  to  him,  merely  because  it  may  be  of  equal  or  of 
more  use  to  us ; or,  to  indulge,  in  this  manner,  at  the  expense 
of  other  people,  the  natural  jireference  which  every  man  has  fbr 
his  own  happiness  above  that  of  other  people,  is  what  no  impar- 
tial spectator  can  go  along  with.  Every  man  is,  no  doubt,  first 
and  principally  recommended  to  his  own  care ; and  as  he  is 
fitter  to  take  care  of  himself  than  of  any  other  jJerson,  it  is  fit 
and  right  that  it  should  be  so.  Evei’y  man,  therefore,  is  much 
more  deeply  interested  in  whatever  immediately  concerns  him- 
self, than  in  what  concerns  any  other  man ; and  to  hear,  per- 
haps, of  the  death  of  another  person  with  whom  we  have  no 
particular  connection,  will  give  us  less  concern,  will  spoil  our 
stomach,  or  break  our  rest,  much  less  than  a very  insignificant 
disaster  which  has  befallen  ourselves.  But  though  the  ruin  of^ 
our  neighbor  may  affect  us  much  less  than  a very  small  misfor- 
tune of  our  own,  we  must  not  ruin  him  to  prevent  that  small 
misfortune,  nor  even  to  prevent  our  own  ruin.  We  must  here, 
as  in  all  other  cases,  view  ourselves  not  so  much  according  to  that 
liglit  in  which  we  may  naturally  appear  to  ourselves,  as  according 
to  that  in  which  we  naturally  appear  to  others.  Though  every 
man  may,  according  to  the  proverb,  be  the  whole  world  to  him 
self,  to  the  rest  of  mankind  he  is  a most  insignificant  part  of  it 


* I say  j)arthj ; for  habits  of  inattention  to  the  situation  of  other  men, 
undoubtedly  presuppose  some  defect  in  the  social  affections. 


niAGIXATION. 


355 


Though  his  own  happiness  may  be  of  more  importance  to  him 
than  that  of  all  the  world  besides,  to  every  other  person  it  is  of 
no  more  consequence  than  that  of  any  other  man.  Though  it 
may  be  true,  therefore,  that  every  individual,  in  his  own  breast, 
naturally  prefers  himself  to  all  mankind,  yet  he  dares  not  look 
mankind  in  the  face,  and  avow  that  he  acts  according  to  this 
principle.  He  feels  that,  in  this  preference,  they  can  never  go 
*along  with  him,  and  that,  how  natural  soever  it  may  be  to  him, 
it  must  always  appear  excessive  and  extravagant  to  them. 
When  he  views  himself  in  the  light  in  which  he  is  conscious 
that  others  will  view  him,  he  sees  that,  to  them,  he  is  but  one  of 
the  multitude,  in  no  respect  better  than  any  other  in  it.  If  he 
would  act  so  as  that  the  impartial  spectator  may  enter  into  the 
principles  of  his  conduct,  which  is  what  of  all  things  he  has  the 
greatest  desire  to  do,  he  must,  upon  this,  as  upon  all  other  occa- 
sions, humble  the  arrogance  of  his  self-love,  and  bring  it  down 
to  something;  which  other  men  can  2:0  along  with.” 

This  theory  controverted  ; benevolent  feeling  independent  of  the 
opinion  of  others.  — I am  ready  to  acknowledge,  that  there  is 
much  Iruth  in  this  passage ; and  that  a prudential  regard  to  the 
opinion  of  others,  might  teach  a man  of  good  sense,  without  the 
aid  of  more  amiable  motives,  to  conceal  his  unreasonable  par- 
tialities in  favor  of  himself,  and  to  act-  agreeably  to  what  he  con- 
ceives to  be  the  sentiments  of  impartial  spectators.  But  I can  • 
not  help  thinking,  that  the  fact  is  much  too  strongly  stated  with 
respect  to  the  natural  partiality  of  self-love,  supposing  the  situa- 
tion of  our  neighbors  to  be  as  completely  presented  to  our  view, 
as  our  own  must'  of  necessity  be.  When  the  orator  wishes  to 
comhat  the  selfish  passions  of  his  audience,  and  to  rouse  them 
to  a sense  of  what  they  owe  to  mankind,  what  mode  of  per- 
suasion does  nature  dictate  to  him  ? Is  it,  to  remind  them  of  the 
importance  of  the  good  opinion  of  the  world,  and  of  the  neces- 
sity, in  order  to  obtain  it,  of  accommodating  their  conduct  to 
the  sentiments  of  others,  rather  than  to  their  own  feelings? 
Such  considerations  undoubtedly  might,  with  some  men,  produce 
a certain  effect ; and  might  lead  them  to  assume  the  appearance 


35G 


IMAGINATION. 


of  virtue  ; but  they  would  never  excite  a sentiment  of  indigna- 
tion at  the  thought  of  injustice,  or  a sudden  and  involuntary 
hurst  of  disinterested  affection.  If  the  orator  can  only  succeed 
in  fixing  their  attention  to  facts,  and  in  bringing  these  facts 
home  to  their  imagination  by  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  he  has 
completely  attained  his  object.  No  sooner  are  the  facts  appre- 
hended, than  the  benevolent  principles  of  our  nature  display 
themselves  in  all  their  beauty.  The  most  cautious  and  timid 
lose,  for  a moment,  all  thought  of  themselves,  and  despising 
every  consideration  of  prudence  or  of  safety,  become  wholly  en- 
grossed with  the  fortunes  of  others. 

Many  other  facts,  which  are  commonly  alleged  as  proofs  of 
the  original  selfishness  of  mankind,  may  be  explained,  in  part, 
in  a similar  way ; and  may  be  traced  to  habits  of  inattention,  or 
to  a want  of  imagination,  arising,  probably,  from  some  fault  in 
early  education. 

What  has  now  been  remarked  with  respect  to  the  social  prin- 
ciples, may  be  apjilied  to  all  our  other  passions,  excepting  those 
which  take  their  rise  from  the  body.  Tliey  are  commonly  strong 
in  proportion  to  the  warmth  and  vigor  of  the  imagination. 

Unexercised  imaginations,  ivhen  once  roused,  become  ungovern- 
nhle.  — It  is,  however,  extremely  curious,  that  when  an  imagi- 
nation, which  is  naturally  phlegmatic,  or  which,  like  those  of  the 
vulgar,  has  little  activity  from  a want  of  culture,  is  fairly  roused 
by  the  descriptions  of  the  orator  or  the  poet,  it  is  more  apt  to 
produce  the  violence  of  enthusiasm,  than  in  minds  of  a superior 
order.  By  giving  this  faculty  occasional  exercise,  we  acquire  a 
great  degree  of  command  over  it.  As  we  can  withdraw  the 
attention  at  pleasure  from  objects  of  sense,  and  transport  our- 
selves into  a world  of  our  own,  so,  when  we  wish  to  moderate 
our  enthusiasm,  we  can  dismiss  the  objects  of  imagination,  and 
return  to  our  ordinary  perceptions  and  occupations.  But  in  a 
mind  to  which  these  intellectual  visions  are  not  familiar,  and 
which  borrows  them  completely  from  the  genius  of  another,  im- 
agination, when  once  excited,  becomes  perfectly  ungovernable, 
and  produces  something  like  a temporary  insanity.  Hence  the 


IMAGINATION. 


3o7 

wonderful  effects  of  popular  eloquence  on  the  lower  orders  ; 
effects  which  are  much  more  remarkable  than  wdiat  it  ever  pro- 
duces on  men  of  education.* 

V.  Inconveniences  resulting  from  an  ill-regulated  imagination, 
— It  was  undoubtedly  the  intention  of  nature,  that  the  objects 
of  ‘perception  should  produce  much  stronger  impressions  on  the 
mind  than  its  own  operations.  And,  accordingly,  they  always 
do  so,  when  proper  care  has  been  taken  in  early  life  to  exercise 
the  different  principles  of  our  constitution.  But  it  is  possible, 
by  long  habits  of  solitary  reflection,  to  reverse  this  order  of 
things,  and  to  weaken  the  attention  to  sensible  objects  to  so 
great  a degree,  as  to  leave  the  conduct  almost  wholly  under  the 
influence  of  imagination.  Removed  to  a distance  from  society, 
and  from  the  pursuits  of  life,  when  we  have  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  converse  with  our  own  thoughts,  and  have  found  our 
activity  gratified  by  intellectual  exertions,  which  afford  scope  to 
all  our  powers  and  affections,  without  exposing  us  to  the  incon- 
veniences resulting  from  the  bustle  of  the  world,  we  are  apt  to 
contract  an  unnatural  predilection  for  meditation,  and  to  lose  all 
interest  in  external  occurrences.  In  such  a situation,  too,  the 
mind  gradually  loses  that  command  which  education,  when 
projierly  conducted,  gives  it  over  the  train  of  its  ideas,  till  at 
length,  the  most  extravagant  dreams  of  imagination  acqume  as 
powerful  an  influence  in  exciting  all  its  passions,  as  if  they  were 
realities.  A wild  and  mountainous  country,  which  presents  but 
a^  limited  variety  of  objects,  and  these  only  of  such  a sort  as 
“ awake  to  solemn  thought,”  has  a remarkable  effect  in  cherish- 
ing this  enthusiasm. 

Remedies  for  a disordered  imagination.  — When  such  disor- 
ders of  the  imagination  have  been  long  confirmed  by  habit,  the 
evil  may,  perhaps,  be  beyond  a remedy ; but  in  their  inferior 


* “ The  province  of  eloquence  is  to  reign  over  minds  of  slow  perception 
and  little  imagination  ; to  set  things  in  lights  they  never  saw  them  in  ; to 
engage  their  attention  hy  details  and  circumstances  gradually  unfolded ; 
to  adorn  and  heighten  them  with  images  and  colors  unknown  to  them  ; 
and  to  raise  and  engage  their  rude  passions  to  the  point  to  which  the 
speaker  wishes  to  bring  them.”  — Grog’s  Letters,  p.  394. 


3j8 


I-MAGIXATIOX. 


degrees,  much  may  be  expected  from  our  own  efforts ; in  par- 
ticular, from  mingling  gradually  in  the  business  and  amusements 
of  the  woi'ld ; or,  if  we  have  sufficient  force  of  mind  for  the 
exertion,  from  resolutely  plunging  into  those  active  and  interest- 
ing and  hazardous  scenes,  which,  by  compelling  us  to  attend  to 
external  circumstances,  may  weaken  the  impressions  of  imagina- 
tion, and  strengthen  those  produced  by  realities.  The  advice 
of  the  poet,  in  these  cases,  is  equally  beautiful  and  just : — 

“ Go,  soft  enthusiast ! quit  the  cypress  groves. 

Nor  to  the  rivulet’s  lonely  meanings  tune 
Your  sad  complaint.  Go,  seek  the  cheerful  haunts 
Of  men,  and  mingle  with  the  bustling  crowd ; 

Lay  schemes  for  wealth,  or  power,  or  fame,  the  wish 
Of  nobler  minds,  and  push  them  night  and  day. 

Or  join  the  caravan  in  quest  of  scenes 
New  to  your  eyes,  and  shifting  every  hour. 

Beyond  the  Alps,  beyond  the  Apennines. 

Or,  more  adventurous,  rush  into  the  field 
Where  war  grows  hot ; and  raging  through  the  sky. 

The  lofty  trumpet  swells  the  madd’ning  soul ; 

And  in  the  hardy  camp  and  toilsome  march, 

Forget  all  softer  and  less  manly  cares.” 

Armstrong. 

Connection  between  genius  and  melancholy.  — The  disordered 
state  of  mind  to  which  these  observations  refer,  is  the  more  inter- 
esting, that  it  is  chiefly  incident  to  men  of  uncommon  sensibility 
and  genius.  It  has  been  often  remarked,  that  there  is  a connection 
between  genius  and  melancholy ; and  there  is  one  sense  of  the 
word  melancholy,  in  which  the  remark  is  undoubtedly  true  ; a 
sense  which  it  may  be  difficult  to  define,  but  in  which  it  implies 
nothing  either  gloomy  or  malevolent.  This,  I think,  is  not  only 
confirmed  by  facts,  but  may  be  inferred  from  some  principles 
which  were  formerly  stated  on  the  subject  of  invention  ; for  as 
the  disposition  now  alluded  to  has  a tendency  to  retard  the  cur- 
rent of  thought,  and  to  collect  the  attention  of  the  mind,  it  is 
peculiarly  favorable  to  the  discovery  of  those  profound  conclu- 
sions which  result  from  an  accurate  examination  of  the  less 
obvious  relations  among  our  ideas.  From  the  same  principles, 
too,  may  be  traced  some  of  the  effects  which  situation  and  early 


IMACIXATION. 


359 


education  produce  on  the  intellectual  character.  Among  the 
natives  of  wild  and  solitary  countries,  we  may  expect  to  meet 
with  sublime  exertions  of  poetical  imagination  and  of  philo- 
sophical research ; while  those  men  whose  attention  has  been 
dissipated  from  infancy  amidst  the  bustle  of  the  world,  and 
whose  current  of  thought  has  been  trained  to  yield  and  accommo- 
date itself,  every  moment,  to  the  rapid  succession  of  trifles, 
which  diversify  fashionable  life,  acquire,  without  any  eflbrt  on 
their  part,  the  intellectual  habits  which  are  favorable  to  gayety, 
vivacity,  and  wit. 

Very  imaginative  persons  may  appear  almost  insane.  — When 
a man,  under  the  habitual  influence  of  a warm  imagination,  is 
obliged  to  mingle  occasionally  in  scenes  of  real  business,  he  is 
perpetually  in  danger  of  being  misled  by  his  own  enthusiasm. 
What  we  call  good  sense  in  the  conduct  of  life,  consists  chiefly 
in  that  temper  of  mind  which  enables  its  possessor  to  view,  at 
all  times,  with  perfect  coolness  and  accuracy,  all  the  various  cir- 
cumstances of  his  situation,  so  that  each  of  them  may  produce 
its  due  impression  on  him,  without  any  exaggeration  arising  from 
its  own  peculiar  habits.  But  to  a man  of  an  ill-regulated 
imagination,  external  circumstances  only  serve  as  hints  to  excite 
his  own  thoughts,  and  the  conduct  he  pursues  has,  in  general,  far 
less  reference  to  his  real  situation,  than  to  some  imaginary  ont , 
in  which  he  conceives  himself  to  be  placed ; in  consequence  ol 
which,  while  he  appears  to  himself  to  be  acting  with  the  most 
perfect  wisdom  and  consistency,  he  may  frequently  exhibit  to 
others  all  the  appearances  of  folly.  Such,  pretty  nearly,  seems 
to  be  the  idea  which  the  author  (Madame  de  Stael  Holstein)  of 
the  “ Reflections  on  the  Character  and  Writings  of  Rousseau,” 
has. formed  of  that  extraordinary  man.  “ His  faculties,”  we  are 
told,  “ were  slow  in  their  operation,  but  his  heart  was  ardent ; it 
was  in  consequence  of  his  own  meditations  that  he  became  im- 
passioned ; he  discovered  no  sudden  emotions,  but  all  his  feelings 
grew  upon  reflection.  It  has,  perhaps,  happened  to  him  to  fall 
in  love  gradually  with  a woman,  by  dwelling  on  the  idea  of  her 
during  her  absence.  Sometimes  he  would  part  with  you  with 
all  his  former  aflFection ; but  if  an  expression  had  escaped  you. 


IMAGINATION. 


r>(’,o 

which  might  bear  an  unfavorable  construction,  he  would  recol- 
lect it,  examine  it,  exaggerate  it,  perhaps  dwell  upon  it  for  a 
month,  and  conclude  by  a total  breach  with  you.  Hence  it  was 
that  there  was  scarce  a possibility  of  undeceiving  him ; for  the 
light  which  broke  in  upon  him  at  once  was  not  sufficient  to 
efface  the  wrong  impressions  which  had  taken  place- so  gradually 
in  his  mind.  It  was  extremely  difficult,  too,  to  continue  long 
on  an  intimate  footing  with  him.  A word,  a gesture,  furnished 
him  with  matter  of  profound  meditation ; he  connected  the  most 
trifling  circumstances  like  so  many  mathematical  propositions, 
and  conceived  his  conclusions  to  be  supported  by  the  evidence 
of  demonstration.”  “ I believe,”  continues  this  ingenious  writer, 
“ tliat  imagination  was  the  strongest  of  his  faculties,  and  that  it 
had  almost  absorbed  all  the  rest.  He  dreamed  rather  than 
existed,  and  the  events  of  his  life  might  be  said,  more  properly 
to  have  passed  in  his  mind,  than  without  him ; a mode  of  being, 
one  should  have  thought,  that  ought  to  have  secured  him  from 
distrust,  as  it  prevented  him  from  observation ; but  the  truth 
was,  it  did  not  hinder  him  from  attempting  to  observe ; it  only 
rendered  his  obsei’vations  erroneous.  That  his  soul  was  tender, 
no  one  can  doubt,  after  having  read  his  works ; but  his  imagina- 
tion sometimes  interposed  between  his  reason  and  his  affections, 
and  destroyed  their  influence : he  appeared  sometimes  void  of 
sensibility ; but  it  was  because  he  did  not  perceive  objects  sucli 
as  they  were.  Had  he  seen  them  with  our  eyes,  his  heard, 
would  have  been  more  affected  than  ours.” 

In  this  very  striking  description,  we  see  the  melancholy  picture 
of  sensibility  and  genius  approaching  to  insanity.  It  is  a case, 
probably,  that  but  rarely  occurs  in  the  extent  here  described ; 
but,  I believe,  there  is  no  man  who  has  lived  much  in  the  world, 
who  will  not  trace  many  resembling  features  to  it,  in  the  circle 
of  his  own  acquaintances ; perhaps  there  are  few  who  have  not 
been  occasionally  conscious  of  some  resemblance  to  it  in  them- 
selves. 

Mistakes  in  judgment  resulting  from  an  ill-regulated  imagina- 
tion. — To  these  observations  we  may  add,  that,  by  an  excessive 
indulgence  in  the  pleasures  of  imagination,  the  taste  may  acquire 


IMAGINATION. 


3C1 


a fastidious  refinement,  unsuitable  to  the  present  situation  of 
human  nature ; and  those  intellectual  and  moral  habits,  which 
ought  to  be  formed  by  actual  experience  of  the  world,  may  be 
gradually  so  accommodated  to  the  dreams  of  poetry  and  romance, 
as  to  disqualify  us  for  the  scene  in  which  we  are  destined  to  act. 
Such  a distempered  state  of  the  mind  is  an  endless  source  of 
error ; more  particularly  when  we  are  placed  in  those  critical 
situations,  in  which  our  conduct  determines  our  future  happiness 
or  misery ; and  which,  on  account  of  this  extensive  influence 
on  human  life,  form  the  principal  groundwork  of  fictitious  com- 
position. The  effect  of  novels,  in  misleading  the  passions  of 
youth,  with  respect  to  the  most  interesting  and  important  of  all 
relations,  is  one  of  the  many  instances  of  the  inconveniences 
resulting  from  an  ill-regulated  imagination. 

The  passion  of  love  has  been  in  every  age  the  favorite  sub- 
ject of  the  poets,  and  has  given  birth  to  the  finest  jM’oductions 
of  human  genius.  These  are  the  natural  delight  of  the  young 
and  susceptible,  long  before  the  influence  of  the  passions  is  felt ; 
and  from  these  a romantic  mind  forms  to  itself  an  ideal  model 
of  beauty  and  perfection,  and  becomes  enamored  with  its  own 
creation.  On  a heart  which  has  been  long  accustomed  to  be 
thus  warmed  by  the  imagination,  the  excellences  of  real  charac- 
ters make  but  a slight  impression ; and,  accordingly,  it  will  be 
found,  that  men  of  a romantic  turn,  unless  when  under  the  in- 
fluence of  violent  passions,  are  seldom  attached  to  a 2iarticular 
object.  Where,  indeed,  such  a turn  is  united  with  a warmtli 
of  temperament,  the  effects  are  different;  but  they  are  equally 
fatal  to  happiness.  As  the  distinctions  which  exist  among  real 
characters  are  confounded  by  false  and  exaggerated  concejjtions 
of  ideal  perfection,  the  choice  is  directed  to  some  object  by 
caprice  and  accident ; a slight  resemblance  is  mistaken  for  an 
exact  coincidence ; and  the  descriptions  of  the  poet  and  novelist 
ai'e  applied  literally  to  an  individual,  who  perhaps  falls  short  of 
the  common  standard  of  excellence.  “ I am  certain,”  says  the 
author  last  quoted,  in  her  account  of  the  character  of  Rousseau, 
“ that  he  never  formed  an  attachment  which  was  not  founded  on 
caprice.  It  was  illusions  alone  that  could  captivate  his  pas- 

31 


3G2 


niAGINATlOX. 


slons ; and  it  was  necessary  for  him  always  to  accomplish  his 
mistress  from  his  own  fancy.  I am  certain,  also,”  she  add?, 
“ that  the  woman  whom  he  loved  the  most,  and  pei'haps  the  oidy 
woman  whom  he  loved  constantly,  was  his  own  Julie.” 

In  the  case  of  this  particular  passion,  the  effects  of  a romantic 
imagination  are  obvious  to  the  most  careless  observer ; and  they 
have  often  led  moralists  to  regret,  that  a temper  of  mind  so 
dangerous  to  happiness  should  have  received  so  much  encourage- 
ment from  some  writers  of  our  own  age,  who  might  have  ent- 
ployed  their  genius  to  better  purposes.  These,  however,  are 
not  the  only  effects  which  such  habits  of  study  have  on  the 
character.  Some  others,  which  are  not  so  apparent  at  first  view, 
have  a tendency,  not  only  to  mislead  us  where  our  own  hap{)i- 
ness  is  at  stake,  but  to  defeat  the  operation  of  those  active  prin- 
ciples, which  were  intended  to  unite  us  to  society.  The  manner 
in  which  imagination  influences  the  mind,  in  the  instances  which 
I allude  to  at  present,  is  curious,  and  deserves  a more  particular 
explanation. 

On  what  our  capacity  of  moral  improvement  is  founded.  — I 
shall  have  occasion  afterwards  to  show,*  in  treating  of  our  moral 


* The  following  reasoning  was  suggested  to  me  by  a passage  in  Butler’s 
Analoyy.  “ Going  over  the  theory  of  virtue  in  one’s  thoughts,  talking  well, 
and  drawing  fine  pictures  of  it,  this  is  so  far  from  necessarily  or  certainly 
conducing  to  form  a habit  of  it  in  him  who  thus  employs  himself,  that  it  may 
harden  the  mind  in  a contrary  course,  and  render  it  gradually  more  insensi- 
ble, i.  e.  form  a habit  of  insensibility  to  all  moral  obligations.  For,  from 
our  very  faculty  of  habits,  passive  impressions,  by  being  repeated,  grow 
weaker.  Thoughts,  by  often  passing  through  the  mind,  are  felt  less  sensi- 
bly; being  accustomed  to  danger,  begets  intrepidity,  f.  e.  lessens  fear;  to 
distress,  lessens  the  passion  of  pity ; to  instances  of  others’  mortality,-  les- 
sens the  sensible  apprehension  of  our  own.  And  from  these  two  observa- 
tions together,  that  practical  habits  are  formed  and  strengthened  by  repeated 
acts;  and  iha.t  passive  impressions  grow  weaker  by  being  repeated  upon  us;  it 
must  follow,  that  active  habits  maybegradually  forming  and  strengthening 
by  a course  of  acting  upon  such  and  such  motives  and  excitements,  while 
these  motives  and  excitements  themselves  are,  by  proportionable  degrees, 
growing  less  sensible,  i.  e.  are  continually  less  and  less  sensibly  felt,  even  as 
the  active  h.abits  strengthen.  And  experience  confirms  this  ; for  active  prin- 
ciples, at  the  very  time  they  are  less  lively  in  perception  than  they  were, 


IlIAGlNATrON. 


363 


])owers,  tliat  experience  diminishes  the  influence  of  passive  im- 
pressions on  the  mind,  but  strengthens  our  active  principles.  A 
course  of  debauchery  deadens  the  sense  of  pleasure,  but  in- 
creases the  desire  of  gratification.  An  immoderate  use  of  strong 
liquors  destroys  the  sensibility  of  the  palate,  but  strengthens  the 
habits  of  intemperance.  The  enjoyments  we  derive  from  any 
favorite  pursuit  gradually  decay  as  we  advance  in  years ; and 
yet  we  continue  to  prosecute  our  favorite  pursuits  with  increas- 
ing steadiness  and  vigor. 

On  these  two  laws  of  our  nature  is  founded  our  capacity  of 
moral  improvement.  In  proportion  as  we  are  accustomed  to 
obey  our  sense  of  duty,  the  influence  of  the  temptations  to  vice 
is  diminished ; while,  at  the  same  time,  our  habit  of  virtuous 
conduct  is  confirmed.  How  many  passive  impressions,  for  in- 
stance, must  be  overcome,  before  the  virtue  of  beneficence  can 
exert  itself  uniformly  and  habitually  ! How  many  circumstances 
are  thei-e  in  the  distresses  of  othei’s,  which  have  a tendency  to 
alienate  our  hearts  from  them,  and  which  prompt  us  to  withdraw 
from  the  sight  of  the  miserable ! The  impressions  we  receive 
from  these  are  unfavorable  to  virtue ; their  force,  however, 
every  day  diminishes,  and  it  may,  perhaps,  by  perseverance,  be 


arc  found  to  be,  somehow,  wrought  more  thoroughly  into  the  temper  and 
character,  and  become  more  effectual  in  influencing  our  practice.  ' The 
three  things  just  mentioned  may  afford  instances  of  it.  Perception  of 
danger  is  a natural  excitement  of  passive  fear  and  active  caution  ; and  by 
being  inured  to  danger,  habits  of  the  latter  arc  gradually  wrought,  at  the 
same  time  that  the  former  gradually  lessens.  Perception  of  distress  in 
others,  is  a natural  excitement  passively  to  pity,  and  actively  to  relieve  it; 
but  let  a man  set  himself  to  attend  to,  inquire  out,  and  relieve  distressed 
persons,  and  he  cannot  but  grow  less  and  less  sensibly  affected  with  the 
various  miseries  of  life  with  which  he  must  become  acquainted  ; when  yet, 
at  the  same  time,  benevolence,  considered  not  as  a passion,  but  as  a practi- 
cal princijile  of  action,  will  strengthen  ; and  whilst  he  passively  compas- 
sionates the  distressed  less,  he  will  acquire  a greater  aptitude  actively  to 
assist  and  befriend  them.  So,  also,  at  the  same  time  that  the  daily  in- 
stances of  men’s  dying  around  us,  give  us  daily  a less  sensible  passive 
feeling  or  a]iprchension  of  our  own  mortality,  such  instances  greatly  con- 
tribute to  the  strengthening  a practical  regard  of  it  in  serious  men ; i.  e.  to 
forming  a habit  of  acting  with  a constant  view  to  it.” 


IMAGINATION. 


r>G4 

wliolly  tlestroyed.  It  is  thus  that  the  character  of  the  beneficent 
man  is  formed.  The  passive  impressions  which  he  felt  origin- 
ally, and  which  counteracted  his  sense  of  duty,  have  lost  their 
influence,  and  a habit  of  beneficence  is  become  part  of  his 
nature. 

Habits  of  benevolence  make  up  for  the  loss  of  quick  sympa- 
thies.— It  must  be  owned,  that  this  reasoning  may,  in  part,  be 
retorted  ; for  among  those  passive  impressions,  which  are  weak- 
ened by  repetition,  there  are  some  which  have  a beneficial 
tendency.  The  uneasiness,  in  particular,  which  the  sight  of 
distress  occasions,  is  a strong  incentive  to  acts  of  humanity ; and 
it  cannot  be  denied  that  it  is  lessened  by  experience.  This 
might  naturally  lead  us  to  expect,  that  the  young  and  unprac- 
tised would  be  more  disposed  to  perform  beneficent  actions, 
than  those  who  are  advanced  in  life,  and  who  have  been  familiar 
with  scenes  of  misery.  And,  in  truth,  the  fact  would  be  so, 
were  it  not  that  the  effect  of  custom  on  this  passive  impression 
is  counteracted  by  its  effects  on  others ; and,  above  all,  by  its 
influence  in  strengthening  the  active  habit  of  beneficence.  An 
old  and  experienced  physician  is  less  affected  by  the  sight  of 
bodily  pain  than  a young  practitioner ; but  he  has  acquired  a 
more  confirmed  habit  of  assisting  the  sick  and  helpless,  and 
would  offer  greater  violence  to  his  nature,  if  he  should  withhold 
from  them  any  relief  that  he  has  in  his  power  to  bestow.  In 
this  case  we  see  a beautiful  provision  made  for  our  moral  im- 
provement, as  the  effects  of  experience  on  one  part  of  our  con- 
stitution are  made  to  counteract  its  .efiects  on  another. 

Familiarity  with  scenes  of  fictitious  distress  is  hurtful.  — If 
the  foregoing  observations  be  well  founded,  it  will  follow,  that 
habits  of  virtue  are  not  to  be  formed  in  retirement,  but  by  ming- 
ling in  the  scenes  of  active  life,  and  that  an  habitual  attention 
to  exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress,  is  not  merely  useless  to  the 
character,  but  positively  hurtful. 

It  will  not,  I think,  be  disputed,  that  the  frequent  perusal  of 
pathetic  comjiositions  diminishes  the  uneasiness  which  they  are 
naturally  fitted  to  excite.  A person  who  indulges  habitually  in 
such  studies,  may  feel  a growing  desire  of  his  usual  gratification, 


niAGnSTATION. 


365 


but  he  is  every  day  less  and  less  alFected  by  the  scenes  which 
are  presented  to  him.  I believe  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  an 
actor  long  hackneyed  on  the  stage,  who  is  capable  of  bemg  com- 
pletely interested  by  the  distresses  of  a tragedy.  The  effect  of 
such  compositions  and  representations,  in  rendering  the  mind 
callous  to  actual  distress,  is  still  greater ; for  as  the  imagination 
of  the  poet  almost  always  carries  him  beyond  truth  and  nature, 
a familiarity  mth  the  tragic  scenes  which  he  exhibits,  can  hardly 
fail  to  deaden  the  impression  produced  by  the  comparatively 
trifling  sufferings  which  the  ordinary  course  of  human  affairs 
presents  to  us.  In  real  life,  a provision  is  made  for  this  gradual 
decay  of  sensibility,  by  the  proportional  decay  of  other  pas- 
sive impressions,  which  have  an  opposite  tendency,  and  by  the 
additional  force  which  our  active  habits  are  daily  acquiring. 
Exhibitions  of  fictitious  distress,  while  they  produce  the  former 
change  on  the  character,  have  no  influence  in  producing  the 
latter ; on  the  contrary,  they  tend  to  strengthen  those  jDassive 
impressions  which  counteract  beneficence.  The  scenes  into  which 
the  novelist  introduces  us  are,  in  general,  perfectly  unlike  those 
which  occur  in  the  world.  As  his  object  is  to  please,  he  removes 
from  his  descriptions  every  circumstance  which  is  disgusting, 
and  presents  us  with  the  histories  of  elegant  and  dignified  dis- 
tress. It  is  not  such  scenes  that  human  life  exhibits.  We  have 
to  act,  not  with  refined  and  elevated  characters,  but  with  the 
mean,  the  illiterate,  the  vulgar,  and  the  profligate.  The  perusal 
of  fictitious  history  has  a tendency  to  increase  that  disgust  which 
we  naturally  feel  at  the  concomitants  of  distress,  and  to  cultivate 
a false  refinement  of  taste,  inconsistent  with  our  condition  as 
members  of  society.  Nay,  it  is  possible  for  this  refinement  to 
be  carried  so  far  as  to  withdraw  a man  fi-om  the  duties  of  life, 
and  even  from  the  sight  of  those  distresses  which  he  might 
alleviate.  And,  accordingly,  many  are  to  be  found,  wdio,  if  the 
situations  of  romance  were  realized,  would  not  fail  to  display  the 
virtues  of  their  favorite  characters,  whose  sense  of  duty  is  not 
sufficiently  strong  to  engage  them  in  the  humble  and  private 
scenes  of  human  misery. 

To  these  effects  of  fictitious  history  we  may  add,  that  it  gives 

31* 


3GG 


IMAGINATION. 


no  exercise  to  our  active  habits.  lu  real  life,  we  proceed  from 
the  passive  impression  to  those  exertions  which  it  was  intended 
to  produce.  In  the  contemplation  of  imaginary  sufferings,  we 
stop  short  at  the  impression,  and  whatever  benevolent  disposi- 
tions we  may  feel,  we  have  no  opportunity  of  carrying  them 
into  action. 

Good  and  evil  effects  of  fiction.  — F rom  these  reasonings  it 
appears,  that  an  habitual  attention  to  exhibitions  of  fictitious 
distress  is,  in  every  view,  calculated  to  check  our  moral  improve- 
ment. It  diminishes  that  uneasiness  which  we  feel  at  the  sight 
of  distress,  and  which  prompts  us  to  relieve  it.  It  strengthens 
that  disgust  which  the  loathsome  concomitants  of  distress  excite 
in  the  mind,  and  which  prompts  us  to  avoid  the  sight  of  misery ; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  it  has  no  tendency  to  confirm  those 
habits  of  active  beneficence,  without  which,  the  best  dispositions 
are  useless.  I would  not,  however,  be  understood  to  disapprove 
entirely  of  fictitious  narratives,  or  of  pathetic  compositions.  On 
the  contrary,  I think  that  the  perusal  of  them  may  be  attended 
with  advantage,  when  the  effects  which  I have  mentioned  are 
corrected  by  habits  of  real  business.  They  soothe  the  mind 
when  ruflled  by  the  rude  intercourse  of  society,  and  stealing  the 
attention  insensibly  from  our  own  cares,  substitute,  instead  of 
discontent  and  distress,  a tender  and  pleasing  melancholy.  By 
exhibitions  of  characters  a little  elevated  above  the  common 
standard,  they  have  a tendency  to  cultivate  the  taste  in  life ; to 
quicken  our  disgust  at  what  is  mean  or  offensive,  and  to  form 
the  mind  insensibly  to  elegance  and  dignity.  Their  tendency 
to  cultivate  the  powers  of  moral  perception  has  never  been  dis- 
puted ; and  when  the  influence  of  such  perceptions  is  powerfully 
felt,  and  is  united  with  an  active  and  manly  temper,  they  render 
the  character  not  only  more  amiable,  but  more  happy  in  itself, 
and  more  useful  to  others  ; for  although  a rectitude  of  judgment 
with  respect  to  conduct,  and  strong  moral  feelings,  do,  by  no 
means,  alone  constitute  virtue ; yet  they  are  frequently  neces- 
sary to  direct  our  behaviour  in  the  more  critical  situations  of 
life ; and  they  inci;ease  the  interest  we  take  in  the  general  pros- 
perity of  virtue  in  the  world.  I believe,  likewise,  that,  by 


IMAGINATION. 


3G7 


means  of  fictitious  liistorj,  displays  of  character  may  be  most 
successfully  given,  and  the  various  weaknesses  of  the  heart  ex- 
posed. I only  mean  to  insinuate,  that  a taste  for  them  may  be 
carried  too  far ; that  the  sensibility  which  terminates  in  imagi- 
nation, is  but  a refined  and  selfish  luxury ; and  that  nothing  can 
effectually  advance  our  moral  improvement,  but  an  attention  to 
the  active  duties  which  belong  to  our  stations.* 

VI.  Importmit  uses  to  which  the  power  of  imagination  is  sub- 
servient. — The  faculty  of  imagination  is  the  great  spring  of  hu- 
man activity,  and  the  principal  source  of  human  improvement. 
As  it  delights  in  presenting  to  the  mind  scenes  and  characters 
more  perfect  than  those  which  we  are  acquainted  with,  it  pre- 
vents us  from  ever  being  completely  satisfied  with  our  present 
condition,  or  with  our  past  attainments ; and  engages  us  contin- 
ually in  the  pursuit  of  some  untried  enjoyment,  or  of  some  ideal 
excellence.  Hence  the  ardor  of  the  selfish  to  better  their  for- 
tunes, and  to  add  to  their  personal  accomplishments  ; and  hence 
the  zeal  of  the  patriot  and  the  philosopher  to  advance  the  vir- 
tue and  the  happiness  of  the  human  race.  Destroy  this  faculty, 
and  the  condition  of  man  will  become  as  stationary  as  that  of 
the  brutes. 

When  the  notions  of  enjoyment  or  of  excellence  which  imag- 
ination has  formed,  are  greatly  raised  above  the  ordinary  stand- 
ard, they  interest  the  passions  too  deeply  to  leave  us  at  all  times 
the  cool  exercise  of  reason,  and  produce  that  state  of  the  mind 
which  is  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  enthusiasm ; a temper 


* After  all  the  concessions  I have  here  made  in  favor  of  such  fictitious 
histories  as  our  modem  novels,  I must  acknowledge  my  own  partiality  for 
those  performances  of  an  earlier  date,  which  describe  the  adventures  of  im- 
aginary orders  of  being.  [The  Arabian  Nights’  Entertainment,  Eahy  Tales, 
etc.]  Many  of  them  atford  lessons  of  morality  not  less  instructive  than 
those  in  our  most  unexceptionable  novels ; and  they  possess,  over  and 
above,  the  important  advantage  of  giving  to  the  imagination  of  young  per- 
sons a much  more  vigorous  exercise,  while  they  have  no  such  tendency 
as  novels  have  to  mislead  them  in  their  views  of  human  life.  In  most 
cases,  it  may  he  laid  down  as  a rale,  that  fictitious  histories  are  dangerous, 
in  proportion  as  the  manners  they  exhibit  profess  to  approach  to  those 
which  we  expect  to  meet  with  in  the  world. 


368 


IMAGINATION. 


which  is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  sources  of  error  and  disappoint- 
ment ; but  whicli  is  a source,  at  the  same  time,  of  heroic  actions 
and  of  exalted  characters.  To  the  exaggerated  conceptions  of 
eloquence  which  perpetually  revolved  in  the  mind  of  Cicero ; 
to  that  idea  which  haunted  his  thoughts  of  aliquid  immensum 
infinitumqiie,  we  are  indebted  for  swne  of  the  most  splendid 
displays  of  human  genius ; and  it  is  probable  that  something  of 
the  same  kind  has  been  felt  by  every  man  who  has  risen  much 
above  the  level  of  humanity,  either  in  speculation  or  in  action. 
It  is  happy  for  the  individual,  when  these  enthusiastic  desires 
are  directed  to  events  which  do  not  depend  on  the  caprice  of 
fortune. 

Why  the  higher  hinds  of  poetry  please.  — The  pleasure  we 
receive  from  the  higher  kinds  of  poetry  takes  rise,  in  part,  from 
that  dissatisfaction  which  the  objects  of  imagination  inspire  us 
with,  for  the  scenes,  the  events,  and  the  characters,  with  which 
our  senses  are  conversant.  Tired  and  disgusted  with  this  world 
of  imperfection,  we  delight  to  escape  to  another  of  the  poet’s 
creation,  where  the  charms  of  nature  wear  an  eternal  bloom, 
and  where  sources  of  enjoyment  are  opened  to  us,  suited  to  the 
vast  capacities  of  the  human  mind.*  On  this  natural  love  of 
])oetical  fiction.  Lord  Bacon  has  founded  a very  ingenious  argu- 
ment for  the  soul’s  immortality ; and,  indeed,  one  of  the  most 
important  purposes  to  which  it  is  subservient,  is  to  elevate  the 
mind  above  the  pursuits  of  our  present  condition,  and  to  direct 
the  views  to  higher  objects.  In  the  mean  time,  it  is  rendered 


* [Poetry,  says  Lord  Bacon,  “ is  nothing  else  but  feigned  history,  which 
may  be  styled  [written]  as  well  in  prose  as  in  verse.  The  use  of  this 
feigned  history  hath  been,  to  give  some  shadow  of  satisfaction  to  the  mind 
of  man  in  tliose  ])oints  wherein  the  nature  of  things  doth  deny  it,  the 
world  being  in  proportion  inferior  to  the  soul ; by  reason  whereof,  there  is 
agreeable  to  the  spirit  of  man  a more  ample  greatness,  a more  exact  good- 
ness, and  a more  absolute  variety,  than  can  be  found  in  the  nature  of  things. 
Therefore,  because  the  acts  or  events  of  true  history  have  not  that  magni- 
tude wliich  satisfieth  the  mind  of  man,  poesy  feigneth  acts  and  events 
greater  and  more  heroical : because  true  history  propoundetii  the  successes 
and  issues  of  actions  not  so  agreeable  to  the  merits  of  virtue  and  vice. 


IMAGINATION. 


369 


subservient  also,  in  an  eminent  degree,  to  the  improvement  and 
happiness  of  mankind,  by  the  tendeney  which  it  has  to  acceler* 
ate  the  progress  of  society. 

Good  effects  of  a taste  for  poetry.  — As  the  pictures  which 
the  poet  presents  to  us  are  never  (even  in  works  of  pure  de- 
scription) faithful  copies  from  nature,  but  are  always  meant  to 
be  improvements  on  the  original  she  affords,  it  cannot  be 
doubted  that  they  must  have  some  effect  in  refining  and  exalt- 
ing our  taste,  both  ivith  respect  to  material  beauty,  and  to  the 
objects  of  our  pursuit  in  life.  It  has  been  alleged,  that  the 
works  of  our  descriptive  poets  have  contributed  to  diffuse  that 
taste  for  picturesque  beauty  which  is  so  prevalent  in  England, 
and  to  recall  the  public  admiration  from  the  fantastic  decora- 
tions of  art,  to  the  more  powerful  and  permanent  charms  of  cul- 
tivated nature ; and  it  is  certain,  that  the  first  ardors  of  many  an 
illustrious  character  have  been  kindled  by  the  compositions  of 
Homer  and  Yirgil.  It  is  difficult  to  say,  to  what  a degree,  in 
the  earlier  periods  of  society,  the  rude  compositions  of  the  bard 
and  the  minstrel  may  have  been  instrumental  in  humanizing  the 
minds  of  savage  warriors,  and  in  accelerating  the  growth  of  cul- 
tivated manners.  Among  the  Scandinavians  and  the  Celtse,  we 
know  that  this  order  of  men  was  held  in  very  peculiar  venera- 
tion ; and,  accordingly,  it  would  appear,  from  the  monuments 
which  remain  of  these  nations,  that  they  were  distinguished  by 
a delicacy  in  the  passion  of  love,  and  by  a humanity  and  generos- 

therefore  poesy  feigneth  them  more  just  in  retribution,  and  more  according 
to  revealed  providence : because  true  history  representeth  actions  and 
events  more  ordinary,  and  less  interchanged,  therefore  poesy  enduet,h  them 
with  more  rareness,  and  more  unexpected  and  alternative  variations  ; so  as 
it  appeareth,  poesy  serveth  and  conferreth  to  magnanimity,  morality,  and 
to  delectation.  And  therefore  it  was  ever  thought  to  have  some  participa- 
tion of  divineness,  because  it  doth  raise  and  erect  the  mind,  by  submitting 
tbe  shows  of  things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind  ; whereas  reason  doth  buckle 
and  bow  the  mind  unto  the  nature  of  things.  And  we  see,  that  by  these 
insinuations  and  congruities  with  man’s  nature  and  pleasure,  joined  also 
with  the  agreement  and  consort  it  hath  with  music,  it  hath  had  access  and 
estimation  in  rude  times  and  barbarous  regions,  where  other  learning 
stood  excluded.”]  — Advancement  of  Learning.  Book  ii. 


370 


IMAGINATION. 


itj  to  the  vanquished  in  war,  which  seldom  appear  among  bar- 
barons  tribes ; and  with  which  it  is  hardly  possible  to  conceive 
how  men  in  such  a state  of  society  could  have  been  inspired, 
but  by  a separate  class  of  individuals  in  the  community,  who 
devoted  themselves  to  the  pacific  profession  of  poetry,  and  to 
the  cultivation  of  that  creative  power  of  the  mind,  vdiich  antic- 
ipates the  course  of  human  affairs,  and  presents,  in  prophetic 
vision,  to  the  poet  and  the  philosopher,  the  blessings  wdiich 
accompany  the  progress  of  reason  and  refinement. 

Imagination  multiplies  our  innocent  enjoyments.  — Nor  must 
wm  omit  to  mention  the  important  etfects  of  imagination,  in 
multiplying  the  sources  of  innocent  enjoyment  beyond  what  this 
limited  scene  affords.  Not  to  insist  on  the  noble  efforts  of  gen- 
ius, which  have  rendered  this’  part  of  our  constitution  subser- 
vient to  moral  improvement,  how  much  has  the  sphere  of  our 
hap])iness  been  extended,  by  those  agreeable  fictions  which 
introduce  us  to  new  ■worlds,  and  make  ns  acquainted  with  new 
orders  of  being ! What  a fund  of  amusement,  through  life,  is 
prepared  for  one  who  reads  in  his  childhood  the  fables  of 
ancient  Greece ! They  dwell  habitually  on  the  memory,  and 
are  ready,  at  all  times,  to  fill  up  the  intervals  of  business,  or  of 
serious  reflection ; and  in  his  hours  of  rural  retirement  and 
leisure,  they  wmrm  his  mind  with  the  fire  of  ancient  genius,  and 
animate  every  scene  he  enters,  with  the  offspring  of  classical 
fancy. 

Happy  effect  of  agreeable  anticipations  of  the  future.  — It  is, 
however,  chiefly  in  painting  future  scenes,  that  imagination 
loves  to  indulge  herself,  and  her  prophetic  dreams  are  almost 
always  favorable  to  happiness.  By  an  erroneous  education, 
indeed,  it  is  possible  to  render  this  faculty  an  instrument  of 
constant  and  of  exquisite  distress  ; but,  in  such  cases,  (abstract- 
ing from  the  influence  of  a constitutional  melancholy,)  the  dis- 
tresses of  a gloomy  imagination  are  to  be  ascribed,  not  to 
nature,  but  to  the  force  of  early  impressions. 

The  common  bias  of  the  mind  undoubtedly  is,  (such  is  the 
benevolent  appointment  of  Providence,)  to  think  favorably  of 
the  future;  to  overvalue  the  chances  of  possible  good,  and  to 


IMAGINATION. 


371 


underrate  the  risk  of  possible  evil ; and,  in  the  case  of  some 
fortunate  individuals,  this  disposition  remains  after  a thousand 
disappointments.  To  what  this  bias  of  our  nature  is  owing,  it 
is  not  material  for  us  to  inquire ; the  fact  is  certain,  and  it  is 
an  important  one  to  our  happiness.  It  supports  us  under  the 
real  distresses  of  life,  and  cheers  and  animates  all  our  labors ; 
and  although  it  is  sometimes,  apt  to  produce,  in  a weak  and 
indolent  mind,  those  deceitful  suggestions  of  ambition  and  van- 
ity, which  lead  us  to  sacrifice  the  duties  and  the  comforts  of  tlie 
present  moment  to  romantic  hopes  and  expectations ; yet,  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  when  connected  with  habits  of  activity, 
and  regulated  by  a solid  judgment,  to  have  a favorable  effect 
on  the  character,  by  inspiring  that  ardor  and  enthusiasm  which 
both  prompt  to  great  enterprises,  and  are  necessary  to  insure 
their  success.  When  such  a temper  is  united  (as  it  commonly 
is)  with  pleasing  notions  concerning  the  order  of  the  universe, 
and,  in  particular,  concerning  the  condition  and  tlie  prospects 
of  man,  it  places  our  happiness,  in  a great  measui’e,  beyond  the 
power  of  fortune.  While  it  adds  a double  relisli  to  every  en- 
joyment, it  blunts  the  edge  of  all  our  sufferings ; and,  even 
when  human  life  presents  to  us  no  object  on  which  our  hopes 
can  rest,  it  invites  the  imagination  beyond  the  dai’k  and  troubled 
horizon,  which  terminates  all  our  earthly  prospects,  to  wander 
unconfined  in  the  regions  of  futurity.  A man  of  benevolence, 
whose  mind  is  enlarged  by  philosophy,  will  indulge  the  same 
agreeable  anticipations  with  respect  to  society;  will  view  all 
the  different  improvements  in  arts,  in  commerce,  and  in  the  sci- 
ences, as  cooperating  to  promote  the  union,  the  happiness,  and 
the  virtue  of  mankind  ; and  amidst  the  political  disorders  re- 
sulting from  the  prejudices  and  follies  of  his  own  times,  will  look 
forward  with  transport  to  the  blessings  which  are  reserved  for 
posterity  in  a more  enlightened  age. 


Oi  Z 


REASON. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OF  REASON. 

I.  On  the  vagueness  and  ambiguity  of  the  common  philosophic 
cal  language  relative  to  this  part  of  our  constitution.  — The 
Ijower  of  Reason,  of  which  I am  now  to  ti’eat,  is  unquestionably 
the  most  important  by  far  of  those  which  are  comprehended 
under  the  general  title  of  intellectual.  It  is  on  the  right  use  of 
this  jiower,  that  our  success  in  the  pursuit  both  of  knowledge 
and  of  happiness  depends  ; and  it  is  by  the  exclusive  possession 
of  it,  that  man  is  distinguished,  in  the  most  essential  respects, 
from  the  lower  animals.  It  is,  indeed,  from  their  subserviency 
to  its  operations,  that  the  other  faculties,  which  have  been 
hitherto  under  our  consideration,  derive  their  chief  value. 

Popular  meaning  of  the  word  Reason.  — Some  remarkable 
instances  of  vagueness  and  ambiguity  in  the  employment  of 
words,  occur  in  that  branch  of  my  subject  of  which  I am  now 
to  treat.  The  word  Reason,  itself,  is  far  from  being  pi’ecise  in 
its  meaning.  In  common  and  popular  discourse,  it  denotes  that 
power  hy  which  we  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  and  right 
from  wrong  ; and  hy  which  we  are  enabled  to  combine  means  for 
the  attainment  of  particxdar  ends.  Whether  these  different 
capacities  are,  with  strict  logical  propriety,  referred  to  the  same 
power,  is  a question  which  I shall  examine  in  another  part  of 
my  work ; but  that  they  are  all  included  in  the  idea  which  is 
generally  annexed  to  the  word  Reason,  there  can  be  no  doubt ; 
and  the  case,  so  far  as  I know,  is  the  same  with  the  cori'espond- 
ing  term  in  all  languages  whatever.  The  fact  probably  is,  that 
this  word  wslS  first  employed  to  comprehend  the  principles,  what- 
ever tliey  are,  by  which  man  is  distinguished  from  the  brutes  ; 
and  afterwards  came  to  be  somev  hat  limited  in  its  meaning,  by 


REASON. 


373 


the  more  obvious  conclusions  concerning  tbe  nature  of  that  dis- 
tinction, which  present  themselves  to  the  common  sense  of  man- 
kind. It  is  in  this  enlarged  meaning  that  it  is  opposed  to 
instinct  by  Pope : — 

“And  reason  raise  o’er  instinct  as  you  can  ; 

In  this  ’tis  God  directs,  in  that  ’tis  man.” 

It  was  thus,  too,  that  Milton  plainly  understood  the  term, 
when  he  remarked,  that  smiles  imply  the  exercise  of  Eeason  : — 

“ Smiles  from  Eeason  flow. 

To  brutes  denied  : ” 

and  still  more  explicitly  in  these  noble  lines ; — 

“ Thei'e  wanted  yet  the  master-work,  the  end 
Of  all  yet  done ; a creature  who,  not  prone 
And  brute  as  other  creatures,  but  endued 
With  sanctity  of  Reason,  might  erect 
His  stature,  and  upright  with  front  serene 
Govern  the  rest,  self-knowing ; and  from  thence. 
Magnanimous,  to  coirespond  with  heaven  ; 

But,  grateful  to  acknowledge  whence  his  good 
Descends,  thither  with  heart,  and  voice,  and  eyes. 

Directed  in  devotion,  to  adore 

And  worship  God  Supreme,  who  made  him  chief 

Of  all  his  works.” 

Among  tbe  various  characteristics  of  humanity,  the  power  of 
devising  means  to  accomplish  ends,  together  with  the  power 
of  distinguishing  truth  from  falsehood,  and  right  from  wrong, 
are  obviously  the  most  conspicuous  and  important ; and  accord- 
ingly it  is  to  these  that  the  word  Reason,  even  in  its  most 
comprehensive  acceptation,  is  now  exclusively  restrictedi* 


* This,  I think,  is  the  meaning  which  most  naturally  presents  itself  to 
common  readers,  when  the  word  Reason  occurs  in  authors  not  affecting  to 
aim  at  any  nice  logical  distinctions  ; and  it  is  certainly  the  meaning  which 
must  be  annexed  to  it,  in  some  of  the  most  serious  and  important  argu- 
ments in  which  it  has  ever  been  employed.  In  the  following  passage,  for 
examjile,  where  Mr.  Locke  contrasts  the  light  of  Reason  with  that  of 
Revelation,  he  plainly  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that  it  is  competent  to 
appeal  to  the  former,  as  affording  a standard  of  right  and  wrong,  not  less. 

32 


374 


REASON. 


More  limited  meaning  of  the  word.  — By  some  philosophers, 
the  meaning  of  the  word  has  been  of  late  restricted  still  further ; 
to  the  "power  hy  which  we  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  ana 
combine  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  our  purposes  ; — the 
capacity  of  distinguishing  right  and  wrong  being  referred  to  a 
separate  principle  or  faculty,  to  which  different  names  have 
been  assigned  in  different  ethical  theories.  The  following  pas 
sage  from  Mr.  Hume  contains  one  of  the  most  explicit  state- 
ments of  this  limitation  which  I can  recollect : “ Thus  the  dis- 
tinct boundaries  and  offices  of  reason  and  of  taste  are  easily 
ascertained.  The  former  conveys  the  knowledge  of  truth  and 
falsehood ; the  latter  gives  the  sentiment  of  beauty  and  deform- 
ity,— vice  and  virtue.  Reason,  being  cool  and  disengaged,  is 
no  motive  to  action,  and  directs  only  the  impulse  received  from 
appetite  or  inclination,  by  showing  us  the  means  of  attaining 
happiness  or  avoiding  misery.  Taste,  as  it  gives  pleasure  or 
pain,  and  thereby  constitutes  happiness  or  misery,  becomes  a 
motive  to  action,  and  is  the  first  spring  or  impulse  to  desire  and 
volition.” 

Reason  distinguished  from  reasoning.  — Another  ambiguity 
in  the  word  Reason,  it  is  of  still  greater  consequence  to  point 
out  at  present ; an  ambiguity  which  leads  us  to  confound  our 
rational  powers  in  general,  with  that  particular  branch  of  them 
known  among  logicians  by  the  name  of  the  discursive  faculty. 
The  affinity  between  the  words  reason  and  reasoning  sufficiently 
accounts  for  this  inaccuracy  in  common  and  popular  language  ; 

than  of  speculative  truth  and  falsehood;  nor  can  there  be  a doubt  that, 
when  he  speaks  of  truth  as  the  object  of  natural  Reason,  it  was  principally, 
if  not  wholly,  moral  truth,  which  he  had  in  his  view ; “ Reason  is  natural 
revelation,  whereby  the  eternal  Father  of  Light,  and  fountain  of  all  knowl- 
edge, communicates  to  mankind  that  portion  of  truth  which  he  has  laid 
within  the  reach  of  their  natural  faculties.  Revelation  is  natural  reason, 
enlarged  by  a new  set  of  discoveries,  communicated  by  God  immediately, 
which  reason  vouches  the  truth  of,  by  the  testimony  and  proofs  it  gives 
that  they  come  from  God.  So  that  he  who  takes  away  reason  to  make 
way  for  revelation,  puts  out  the  light  of  both,  and  does  much  the  same 
as  if  he  would  persuade  a man  to  put  out  his  eyes,  the  better  to  receive 
the  remote  light  of  an  invisible  star  by  a telescope.” 


REASON. 


375 


altliough  it  cannot  fail  to  appear  obvious,  on  the  slightest  reflec- 
tion, that,  in  strict  propriety,  reasoning  only  expresses  one  of  the 
various  functions  or  operations  of  Reason  ; and  that  an  extraor- 
dinary capacity  for  the  former  by  no  means  affords  a test,  by 
which  the  other  constituent  elements  of  the  latter  may  be 
measured.”  * Nor  is  it  to  common  and  popular  language  that 
this  inaccuracy  is  confined.  It  has  extended  itself  to  the  sys- 
tems of  some  of  our  most  acute  philosophers,  and  has,  in  various 
instances,  produced  an  apparent  diversity  of  opinion,  where  there 
was  little  or  none  in  reality. 

In  the  use  which  I make  of  the  word  Reason,  in  the  title  of 
tlie  following  disquisitions,  I employ  it  in  a manner  to  which  no 
philosopher  can  object,  — to  denote  merely  the  power  hy  which 
we  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood,  and  combine  means  for  the 
attainment  of  our  ends  ; omitting,  for  the  present,  all  considera- 
tion of  that  function  which  many  have  ascribed  to  it,  of  distin- 
guishing right  from  wrong ; without,  however,  presuming  to  call 
in  question  the  accuracy  of  those  by  whom  the  term  has  been 
thus  explained.  Under  the  title  of  Reason,  I shall  consider  also 
whatever  faculties  and  operations  appear  to  be  more  imme- 
diately and  essentially  connected  with  the  discovery  of  truth,  or 
the  attainment  of  the  objects  of  our  pursuit,  — more  particu- 
lai’ly  the  power  of  reasoning  or  deduction;  but  distinguishing, 
as  carefully  as  I can,  our  capacity  of  carrying  on  this  logical 


* “ The  two  most  different  things  in  the  world,”  says  Locke,  “ are,  a logi- 
cal chicaner,  and  a man  of  reason.”  The  adjective  reasonable,  as  employed 
in  our  language,  is  not  liable  to  the  same  ambiguity  with  the  substantive 
from  which  it  is  derived.  It  denotes  a character  in  which  Fieason,  (taking 
that  word  in  its  largest  acceptation,)  possesses  a decided  ascendant  over  the 
temper  and  the  passions ; and  implies  no  particular  propensity  to  a display 
of  the  discursive  power,  if,  indeed,  it  does  not  exclude  the  idea  of  such  a 
propensity.  In  the  following  stanza.  Pope  certainly  had  no  view  to  the 
logical  talents  of  the  lady  whom  he  celebrates : — 

“ I know  a thing  that’s  most  uncommon, 

(Envy,  be  silent  and  attend !) 

1 know  a reasonable  woman. 

Handsome  and  witty,  yet  a friend.” 


REASON. 


37  6 

process,  from  those  more  comprehensive  powers  which  Reason 
is  understood  to  imply.* 

Various  meanings  of  the  word  Understanding.  — Anothei 
instance  of  the  vagueness  and  indistinctness  of  the  common 
language  of  logicians,  in  treating  of  this  part  of  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Human  Mind,  occurs  in  the  word  Understanding.  In  its 
popular  sense,  it  seems  to  be  very  neaidy  synonymous  with 

* [Kant,  and  the  later  German  met.aphysicians,  together  with  some  of 
the  French  seliool,  assign  very  different  functions  to  the  Reason  and  the 
Understanding.  Indeed,  the  distinction  between  these  two  foculties  is  the 
key-note  of  German  transcendental  philosophy.  According  to  Kant, 
Reason  is  the  faculty  which  evolves  our  ideas  of  all  tliat  transcends  the 
sphere  of  the  senses  and  the  limitations  of  experience,  — of  all  which  is 
not  subject  to  the  conditions  of  space  and  time,  but  is  infinite  and  absolute. 
In  one  word.  Reason  is  the  faculty  of  the  Unconditioned  ; it  is  the  soul 
itself,  in  the  highest  exercise  of  its  activity,  forming  for  itself  ideas,  to 
which  there  are  no  corresponding  realities  in  the  world  Of  sense  or  in 
the  cognitions  of  the  understanding.  “ Reason,”  sa}'S  Krug,  one  of  the  ablest 
expounders  of  the  Kantian  philosophy,  “ is  the  noblest  jewel  of  humanity, 
the  true  image  of  God,  whereby  alone  man  can  raise  himself  from  one 
stage  of  perfection  to  anotlior.  It  rests,  therefore,  upon  the  peifectibility 
of  our  race,  so  that  we  are  always  striving  after  the  Ideal,  without  ever 
obtaining  it  in  all  its  fulness.  Consequently,  Reason  is  the  only  charac- 
teristic which  distinguishes  man  from  the  other  beasts  of  the  earth  ; these 
resemble  him  more  or  less  in  all  other  respects,  they  even  surpass  him  in 
some,  but  show  no  trace  of  Reason,  because  they  neither  strive  after  the 
Ideal,  nor  are  they  able  to  perfect  themselves  by  tbeir  own  power.”  But 
it  must  be  remembered,  that  no  knowledge,  properly  so  called,  can  be  con- 
structed out  of  these  Ideas  which  are  evolved  by  Reason,  since  there  is  no 
object  corresponding  to  them  in  the  whole  circle  of  experience.  The 
Reason  ceaselessly  strives  after  a knowledge  of  God,  of  the  Universe,  of 
the  Immortality  and  Freedom  of  the  Soul ; and  from  these  vain  efforts, 
constantly  renewed  and  constantly  defeated,  have  arisen  all  the  doctrines 
and  systems  of  metaphysics.  We  cannot  either  prove  or  disprove  the 
reality  of  the  supersensual  objects  corresponding  to  these  ideas  of  the 
Reason.  The  arguments  for  and  against  any  conclusion  respecting  them 
are  equally  valid,  and  thus  confute  each  other.  Thus  Kant  is  led  to 
affirm,  that  no  metaphysical  science  is  possible,  and  that  the  doctrines  of 
ontology  and  speculative  theology  arc  self-contradictory  and  absurd. 

This  account  of  the  Reason  coincides  very  nearly  with  a doctrine  attrib- 
uted by  Cud  worth  to  the  ancient  philosophers,  when  he  says,  “We  have 
all  of  us,  by  nature,  gavreviid  n (as  both  Plato  and  Aristotle  call  it),  a cer- 


REASON. 


377 


Reason,  when  that  word  is  used  most  compreliensivelj' ; and  is 
seldom  or  never  applied  to  any  of  our  faculties,  but  such  as  are 
immediately  subservient  to  the  investigation  of  truth,  or  to  the 
regulation  of  our  conduct.  In  this  sense,  it  is  so  far  from  being 
understood  to  comprehend  the  powers  of  imagination,  fancy,  and 
wit,  that  it  is  often  stated  in  direct  opposition  to  them  ; as  in 
the  common  maxim,  that  a sound  understanding  and  a warm 


tain  divination,  presage,  and  parturient  vaticination  in  our  minds,  of  some 
higher  good  and  perfection  than  either  power  or  knowledge.  Knowledge 
is  plainly  to  be  preferred  before  power,  as  being  that  which  guides  and 
directs  its  blind  force  and  impetus  ; but  Aristotle  himself  declares,  that 
there  is  TJiyov  ri  Kpelrrov,  which  is  Aoyov  upxv,  something  better  than  reason 
and  knowledge,  which  is  the  principle  and  original  of  all.  For  (saith  he) 
Tloyov  apxfj  ov  /idyop,  aUa  n KpecTTOv ; the  principle  of  reason  is  not  reason, 
but  something  better.” — Cudworth’s  Intellectual  System,  Am.  ed.  vol.  1, 
p.  277. 

The  Understandiny,  on  the  other  hand,  according  to  Kant,  is  a lower 
faculty  of  the  mind,  which  corresponds  very  nearly  to  what  we  call  under- 
standing, or  intellect.  It  is  that  foculty  of  the  mind,  by  which  the  indi- 
vidual representations  that  come  to  us  through  the  senses,  are  formed 
into  general  conceptions  and  judgments,  so  as  to  become  food  for  thought. 
The  intuitions  of  sem.ee,  as  they  are  termed,  are  thus  formed  into  concep- 
tions, by  being  subsumed  under  the  categories  of  the  Understanding.  An 
intuition  is  thus  subsumed  under  the  categories  of  quantity,  for  instance, 
by  being  necessarily  conceived  of  as  one,  many,  or  all;  under  the  catego- 
ries of  quality,  because  we  must  think  of  it  as  real,  unreal,  or  limited,  &c. 
These  categories  are  forms  of  the  Understanding ; they  are  not  received 
from  experience,  but  are  conditions  imposed  upon  experience,  as,  without 
them,  experience  would  not  be  possible.  The  Understanding  is  like  a 
colored  glass,  which  imposes  its  own  hues  upon  all  external  objects.  TUe 
cannot  see  things  as  they  are  in  themselves,  but  only  as  they  appear  to  us, 
under  the  forms  and  conditions  of  the  intellect ; we  cannot  know  them 
as  noumena,  but  can  only  recognize  them  as  phenomena. 

Kant’s  system  is  certainly  obscure,  but  it  is  by  mo  means  unintelligible. 
From  the  faint  and  imperfect  outline  of  it  which  is  here  given,  and  which 
is  designed  only  as  an  explanation  of  some  of  its  technical  terms,  it  is 
easy  to  see,  thdt  it  is  a system  of  skepticism  far  more  comprehensive 
than  that  of  Hume.  It  denies  the  possibility  of  our  knowing  any  thing 
which  lies  beyond  the  limits  of  the  senses  and  experience  ; and  even 
within  these  limits,  we  can  know  things,  not  as  they  really  are,  but  only 
as  they  appear  to  us.j 

32  * 


378 


REASON. 


imagination  are  seldom  united  in  the  same  person.  But  philos- 
ophers, without  rejecting  this  use  of  the  word,  very  generally 
employ  it,  with  far  greater  latitude,  to  comprehend  all  the 
powers  which  I have  enumerated  under  the  title  of  intellectual ; 
referring  to  it  imagination,  memory,  and  perception,  as  weU  as 
the  faculties  to  which  it  is  appropriated  in  popular  discourse, 
and  which  it  seems,  indeed,  most  properly  to  denote.  It  is  in 
this  manner  that  it  is  used  by  Mr.  Locke,  in  his  celebrated 
Essay  ; and  by  all  the  logicians,  who  follow  the  common  division 
of  our  mental  powers  into  those  of  the  understanding  and  those 
of  the  will. 

As  the  word  understanding,  however,  is  one  of  those  which 
occur  vei’y  frequently  in  philosophical  arguments,  it  may  be  of 
some  use  to  disengage  it  from  the  ambiguity  just  remarked; 
and  it  is  on  this  account,  that  I have  followed  the  example  of 
some  late  writers,  in  distinguishing  the  two  classes  of  powers, 
which  were  formerly  referred  to  the  understanding  and  to  the 
loill,  by  calling  the  former  intellectual,  and  the  latter  active.* 
The  terms  cognitive  and  motive,  were  long  ago  proposed  for 
the  same  purpose  by  Hobbes ; but  they  never  appear  to  have 
come  into  general  use,  and  are,  indeed,  liable  to  obvious  objec- 
tions. 

Ambiguity  of  the  word  judgment.  — - The  onlj’’  other  indefinite 
word,  which  I shall  take  notice  of  in  these  introductory  remarks, 
is  judgment;  and,  in  doing  so,  I shall  confine  myself  to  such 
of  its  ambiguities  as  are  moi’e  peculiarly  connected  with  our 
present  subject.  In  some  cases,  its  meaning  seems  to  approach 
to  that  of  understanding  ; as  in  the  nearly  synonymous  phrases, 
a sound  understanding,  and  a sound  judgment.  If  there  be  any 
difference  between  these  two  modes  of  expression,  it  appeal’s  to 
me  to  consist  chiefly„in  this,  that  the  former  implies  a greater 
degree  of  positive  ability  than  the  latter ; which  indicates  rather 
an  exemption  from  those  biases  which  lead  the  mind  astray, 
than  th6  possession  of  any  uncommon  reach  of  capacity.  To 
understanding,  we  apply  the  epithets  strong,  vigoi’ous,  compre- 


* [See  note  to  page  14.] 


KEASON. 


379 


Iieiisive,  profound:  to  judgment,  those  of  correct,  cool,  unpreju- 
diced, impartial,  solid.  It  was  in  this  sense,  that  the  word 
seems  to  have  been  understood  by  Pope,  in  the  following 
couplet : — 

“ ’Tis  with  our  judgments  as  our  watches ; none 
Go  just  alike,  yet  each  believes  his  own.” 

For  this  meaning  of  the  word,  its  primitive  and  literal  appli- 
cation to  the  judicial  decision  of  a tribunal  accounts  sufli- 
ciently. 

Agreeably  to  the  same  fundamental  idea,  the  name  of  judg- 
ment is  given  with  peculiar  propriety  to  those  acquired  powers 
of  discernment,  which  characterize  a skilful  critic  in  the  fine 
arts ; powers  which  depend,  in  a very  great  degree,  on  a temper 
of  mind  free  from  the  undue  influence  of  authority  and  of 
casual  associations.  The  power  of  taste  itself  is  frequeiitly 
denoted  by  the  appellation  of  judgment ; and  a person  who 
possesses  a more  than  ordinary  share  of  it,  is  said  to  be  a 
judge  in  those  matters  which  fall  under  its  cognizance. 

In  treatises  of  \o"io.,  judgment  is  commonly  defined  to  be  an 
act  of  the  mind,  by  which  one  thing  is  affirmed  or  denied  of 
another;  a definition  which,  though  not  unexceptionable,  is, 
perhaps,  less  so  than  most  that  have  been  given  on  similar 
occasions.  Its  defect,  as  Dr.  Reid  has  remarked,  consists  in 
this,  — that  although  it  be  by  affirmation  or  denial  that  we 
express  our  judgments  to  others,  yet  judgment  is  a solitary  act 
of  the  mind,  to  which  this  affirmation  or  denial  is  not  essential ; 
and,  therefore,  if  the  definition  be  admitted,  it  must  be  under- 
stood of  mental  affirmation  or  denial  only ; in  which  case,  we  do 
no  more  than  substitute,  instead  of  the  thing  defined,  another 
mode  of  speaking,  perfectly  synonymous.  The  definition  has, 
however,  notwithstanding  this  imperfection,  the  merit  of  a con- 
ciseness and  pei’spicuity,  not  often  to  be  found  in  the  attempts 
of  logicians  to  explain  our  intellectual  operations. 

Obscurity  in  metaphysics  is  always  the  fault  of  the  writer.  — > 
To  the  following  observations  of  D’Alembert,  (with  some  tri- 
fling verbal  exceptions,)  I give  my  most  cordial  assent ; and, 


380 


REASON. 


mortifying  as  they  may  appear  to  the  pretensions  of  bolder 
theorists,  I should  be  happy  to  see  them  genei’ally  recognized 
as  canons  of  philosophical  criticism : “ Truth  in  metaphysics 
resembles  truth  in  matters  of  taste.  In  both  cases,  the  seeds 
of  it  exist  in  every  mind ; though  few  think  of  attending  to 
this  latent  treasure,  till  it  be  pointed  out  to  them  by  more  curi- 
ous inquirers.  It  should  seem,  that  every  thing  we  learn  from  a 
good  metaphysical  book,  is  only  a sort  of  reminiscence  of  what 
the  mind  previously  knew.  The  obscurity  of  which  we  are  apt 
to  complain  in  this  science,  may  be  always  justly  ascribed  to 
the  author ; because  the  information  which  he  professes  to  com- 
municate, requires  no  technical  language  appropriated  to  itself. 
Accordingly,  we  may  apply  to  good  metaphysical  authors,  what 
has  been  said  of  those  wlio  excel  in  the  arf  of  writing,  that,  in 
reading  them,  everybody  is  apt  to  imagine,  that  he  himself 
could  have  written  in  the  same  manner. 

“ But,  in  this  sort  of  speculation,  if  all  are  qualified  to  under- 
stand, all  are  not  fitted  to  teach.  The  merit  of  accommodating 
easily  to  the  apjirehension  of  others,  notions  which  are  at  once 
sinjple  and  just,  appears,  from  its  extreme  rarity,  to  be  much 
greater  than  is  commonly  imagined.  Sound  metaphysical  prin- 
ciples, are  truths  which  every  one  is  ready  to  seize,  but  which 
few  men  have  the  talent  of  unfolding ; so  difficult  is  it  in  this, 
as  well  as  in  other  instances,  to  appropriate  to  one’s  self,  what 
seems  to  be  the  common  inheritance  of  the  human  race.” 

I begin  with  a review  of  some  of  those  primary  truths,  a 
conviction  of  which  is  necessarily  implied  in  all  our  thoughts, 
and  in  all  our  actions ; and  which  seem,  on  that  account,  rather 
to  form  constituent  and  essential  elements  of  reason,  than 
objects  with  which  reason  is  eonversant.  The  import  of  this 
last  remark  will  appear  more  clearly  afterwards. 

The  primary  truths  to  which  I mean  to  confine  my  attention 
at  present  are,  1.  Mathematical  axioms;  2.  Truths,  (or  more 
properly  speaking,  laws  of  belief^  inseparably  connected  with 
the  exercise  of  consciousness,  perception,  memory,  and  rea- 
soning. 

I.  Of  Mathematical  Axioms.  — I have  placed  this  class  of 


KEASON. 


381 


truths  at  the  head  of  the  enumeration,  merely  bemuse  they 
seem  likely,  from  the  place  which  they  hold  in  the  elements  of 
geometry,  to  present  to  my  readers  a more  interesting,  and  at 
the  same  time  an  easier,  subject  of  discussion,  than  some  of  the 
more  abstract  and  latent  elements  of  our  knowledge,  afterwards 
to  be  considered.  In  other  respects,  a different  arrangement 
might  perhaps  have  possessed  some  advantages,  in  point  of  strict 
logical  method. 

Axioms  cure  not  principles  from  which  any  hioicledge  can  he 
deduced.  — It  was  long  ago  remarked  by  Locke,  of  the  axioms 
of  geometry,  as  stated  by  Euclid,  that,  although  the  proposition 
be  at  first  enunciated  in  general  terms,  and  afterwards  appealed 
to,  in  its  particular  applications,  as  a principle  previously 
examined  and  admitted,  yet  that  the  truth  is  not  less  evident  in 
the  latter  case  than  in  the  former.  He  observes  further,  that  it 
is  in  some  of  its  particular  applications,  that  the  truth  of  every 
axiom  is  originally  perceived  by  the  mind ; and,  therefore,  that 
the  general  proposition,  so  far  from  being  the  ground  of  our 
assent  to  the  truths  which  it  comprehends,  is  only  a verbal 
generalization  of  what,  in  particular  instances,  has  been  already 
acknowledged  as  true. 

The  same  author  remarks,  that  some  of  these  axioms  “ are 
no  more  than  bare  verbal  propositions,  and  teach  us  nothing  but 
the  respect  and  import  of  names  one  to  another.  ‘ The  whole  is 
equal  to  all  its  parts  ’ ; what  real  truth,  I beseech  you,  does  it 
teach  us  ? Wliat  more  is  contained  in  that  maxim,  than  what 
the  signification  of  the  word  totum,  or  the  whole,  does  of  itself 
import?  And  he  that  knows  that  the  word  whole  stands  for 
what  is  made  up  of  all  its  parts,  knows  very  little  less,  than  that 
“the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts.”  And  upon  the  same 
ground,  I think  that  this  proposition,  ‘A  hill  is  higher  than  a 
valley,’  and  several  the  like,  may  also  pass  foi  maxims.” 

How  far  axioms  are  useful.  — Notwithstanding  these  con- 
siderations, Mr.  Locke  does  not  object  to  the  form  which 
Euclid  has  given  to  his  axioms,  or  to  the  place  which  he  has 
assigned  to  them  in  his  Elements.  On  the  contrary,  he  is  of 
opinion,  that  a collection  of  such  maxims  is  not  without  reason 


382 


REASON. 


prefixed  to  a matliematical  system ; in  order  that  learners, 
“ having  in  the  beginning  perfectly  acquainted  their  thoughts 
with  these  propositions  made  in  general  tei'ms,  may  have  them 
ready  to  apj)ly  to  all  particular  cases,  as  formed  rules  and  say- 
ings. Not  that,  if  they  be  equally  weighed,  they  are  more 
clear  and  evident  than  the  instances  they  are  brought  to  con- 
firm ; but  that,  being  more  familiar  to  the  mind,  the  very  nam- 
ing of  them  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  understanding.”  In  further 
illustration  of  this,  he  adds,  very  justly  and  ingeniously,  that 
“ although  our  knowledge  begins  in  particulars,  and  so  spreads 
itself,  by  degrees,  to  generals ; yet,  afterwards,  the  mind  takes 
quite  the  contrary  course,  and  having  drawn  its  knowledge  into 
as  general  propositions  as  it  can,  makes  them  familiar  to  its 
thoughts,  and  accustoms  itself  to  have  recourse  to  them,  as  to 
the  standards  of  truth  and  falsehood.” 

But  although  in  mathematics  some  advantage  may  be  gained, 
Avithout  the  risk  of  any  possible  inconvenience,  from  this  ar- 
rangement of  axioms,  it  is  a very  dangerous  example  to  be  fol- 
lowed in  other  branches  of  knowledge,  whei’e  our  notions  are 
not  equally  clear  and  precise ; and  whei’e  the  force  of  our  pre- 
tended axioms,  (to  use  Mr.  Locke’s  words,)  “ reaching  only  to 
the  sound,  and  not  to  the  signification,  of  the  words,  serves  only 
to  lead  us  into  confusion,  mistakes,  and  error.”  For  the  illus- 
tration of  this  remark,  I must  refer  to  Locke. 

Axioms  are  not  the  foundations  on  which  science  rests.  — ■ 
Another  observation  of  this  profound  writer  deserves  our 
attention,  Avhile  examining  the  nature  of  axioms ; “ that  they 
are  not  the  foundations  on  which  anj  of  the  sciences  is  built ; 
nor  at  all  useful  in  helping  men  forward  to  the  discover}’’ 
of  unknown  truths.”  This  observation  I intend  to  illustrate 
afterwards,  in  treating  of  the  futility  of  the  syllogistic  art.  At 
present,  I shall  only  add  to  what  Mr.  Locke  has  so  well  stated, 
that,  even  in  mathematics,  it  cannot  with  any  propriety  be  said, 
that  the  axioms  are  the  foundation  on  which  the  science  rests, 
or  the  first  principles  from  which  its  more  recondite  truths  are 
deduced. 

“ Of  intuitive  evidence,”  says  Dr.  Campbell,  “ that  of  the 


EEA30X. 


383 


following  propositions  may  serve  as  an  illustration  : ‘ One  and 
four  make  five.’  ‘ Things  equal  to  the  same  thing,  are  equal  to 
one  another.’  ‘ The  whole  is  greater  than  a part ; ’ and,  in 
brief,  all  axioms  in  arithmetic  and  geometry.  These  are,  in 
effect,  but  so  many  expositions  of  our  own  genei’al  notions, 
taken  in  different  views.  Some  of  them  are  no  more  than  defi- 
nitions, or  equivalent  to  definitions.  To  say,  one  and  four  make 
five,  is  precisely  the  same  thing  as  to  say,  we  give  the  name  of 
five  to  one  added  to  four.  In  fact,  they  are  all,  in  some  re- 
spects, reducible  to  this  axiom,  ‘ whatever  is,  is.’  J do  not  say 
they  are  deduced  from  it,  for  they  have,  in  like  manner,  that 
original  and  intrinsic  evidence  which  makes  them,  as  soon  as 
the  terms  ai’e  undei’stood,  to  be  perceived  intuitively.  And,  if 
they  are  not  thus  perceived,  no  deduction  of  reason  will  ever 
confer  on  them  any  additional  evidence.  Nay,  in  point  of  time, 
the  discovery  of  the  less  genercd  truths  has  the  priority,  not  from 
their  superior  evidence,  but  solely  from  this  considei'ation,  that 
the  less  general  are  sooner  objects  of  perception  to  us.  But  I 
affirm,  that  though  not  deduced  from  that  axiom,  they  may  be 
considered  as  particular  exemplif  cations  of  it,  and  coincident 
with  it,  inasmuch  as  they  are  all  implied  in  this,  that  the  proper- 
ties of  our  clear  and  adequate  ideas,  can  be  no  other  than  what 
the  mind  clearly  perceives  them  to  be. 

“ Now,  it  is  by  the  aid  of  such  simple  and  elementary  princi- 
ples, that  the  arithmetician  and  algebi’aist  proceed  to  the  most 
astonishing  discoveries.  Nor  are  the  operations  of  the  geome- 
trician essentially  different.” 

The  nature  of  mathematical  investigations.  — I have  little  to 
object  to  these  observations  of  Dr.  Campbell,  as  far  as  they 
relate  to  arithmetic  and  to  algebra ; for,  in  these  sciences,  all 
our  investigations  amount  to  nothing  more  than  to  a comparison 
of  different  expressions  of  the  same  thing.  Our  common  lan- 
guage indeed  frequently  supposes  the  case  to  be  otherwise ; as 
when  an  equation  is  defined  to  be,  “ A proposition  asserting  the 
equality  of  two  quantities.”  It  would,  however,  be  much  more 
correct  to  define  it,  “ A proposition  asserting  the  equivalence  of 
two  expressions  of  the  same  quantity ; ” for  algebra  is  merely  a 


384 


REASON. 


universal  arithmetic ; and  the  names  of  numbers  are  nothing 
else  than  collectives,  by  which  we  are  enabled  to  express  oiu’- 
selves  more  concisely  than  could  be  done  by  enumerating  all 
the  units  that  they  contain.  Of  this  doctrine,  the  passage  now 
quoted  from  Dr.  Campbell  shows  that  he  entertained  a suffi- 
ciently just  and  precise  idea. 

But,  if  Dr.  Campbell  perceived  that  arithmetical  equations, 
such  as  “ one  and  four  make  five,”  are  no  other  than  definitions, 
why  should  he  have  classed  them  with  the  axioms  he  quotes 
from  Euclid,  “ That  the  whole  is  greater  than  a part,”  and  that 
“ Things  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one  another?”  — 
propositions  which,  however  clearly  their  truth  be  implied  in 
the  meaning  of  the  terms  of  wliich  they  consist,  cannot  certainly, 
by  any  interpretation,  be  considered  in  the  light  of  definitions  at 
all  analogous  to  the  former.  The  former,  indeed,  are  only  ex- 
planations of  the  relative  import  of  particular  names ; the  latter 
are  universal  propositions,  applicable  alike  to  an  infinite  variety 
of  instances. 

Another  very  obvious  consideration  might  have  satisfied  Dr. 
Campbell,  that  the  simple  arithmetical  equations  which  he  men- 
tions, do  not  hold  the  same  place  in  that  science  which  Euclid’s 
axioms  hold  in  geometry.  What  I allude  to  is,  that  the  greater 
part  of  these  axioms  are  equally  essential  to  all  the  different 
branches  of  mathematics.  That  “ the  whole  is  greater  than  a 
part,”  and  that  “ things  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  one 
another,”  are  propositions  as  essentially  connected  with  our 
arithmetical  computations,  as  with  our  geometrical  reasonings ; 
and  therefore,  to  explain  in  what  manner  the  mind  makes  a 
transition,  in  the  case  of  numbers,  from  the  more  simple  to  the 
more  complicated  equations,  throws  no  light  whatever  on  the 
question,  how  the  transition  is  made,  either  in  arithmetic  or  in 
geometry,  from  what  are  properly  called  axioms,  to  the  more 
remote  conclusions  in  these  sciences. 

The  very  fruitless  attempt  thus  made  by  this  acute  writer  to 
illustrate  the  importance  of  axioms  as  the  basis  of  mathematical 
truth,  was  probably  suggested  to  him  by  a doctrine  which  has 
been  repeatedly  inculcated  of  late,  concerning  the  grounds  of 


REASON. 


S85 


that  peculiar  evidence  which  is  allowed  to  accompany  mathe- 
matical demonstration.  “ All  the  sciences,”  it  has  been  said, 
“rest  ultimately  on  first  principles,  which  we  must  take  for 
granted  without  proof ; and  whose  evidence  determines,  both  in 
kind  and  degree,  the  evidence  which  it  is  possible  to  attain  in 
our  conclusions.  In  some  of  the  sciences,  our  first  j:)riuciples 
are  intuitively  certain  ; in  others,  they  are  intuitively  probable  ; 
and  such  as  the  evidence  of  these  principles  is,  such  must  that 
of  our  conclusions  be.  If  our  first  principles  are  intuitively 
certain,  and  if  we  reason  from  them  consequentially,  our  con- 
clusions will  be  demonstratively  certain ; but  if  our  principles 
be  only  intuitively  probable,  our  conclusions  will  be  only  demon- 
stratively probable.  In  mathematics,  the  first  principles  from 
which  we  reason  are  a set  of  axioms,  which  are  not  only  intui- 
tively certain,  but  of  which  we  find  it  impossible  to  conceive  the 
contraries  to  be  true ; and  hence  the  peculiar  evidence  which 
belongs  to  all  the  conclusions  that  follow’  from  these  principles 
as  necessary  consequences.” 

Definitions,  not  axioms,  are  the  first  principles  of  mathe- 
matics. — That  there  is  something  fundamentally  erroneous  in 
these  very  strong  statements  wdth  respect  to  the  relation  w’hich 
Euclid’s  axioms  bear  to  the  geometrical  theorems  w'hich  follow, 
appears  sufficiently  from  a consideration  which  was  long  ago 
mentioned  by  Locke,  that  from  these  axioms  it  is  not  possible 
for  human  ingenuity  to  deduce  a single  inference.  “ It  was  not,” 
says  Locke,  “ the  influence  of  those  maxims  which  are  taken  for 
principles  in  mathematics,  that  hath  led  the  masters  of  that 
science  to  those  wonderful  discoveries  they  have  made.  Let  a 
man  of  good  parts  know  all  the  maxims  generally  made  use  of 
in  mathematics  never  so  perfectly,  and  contemplate  their  extent 
and  consequences  as  much  as  he  pleases,  he  will,  by  their  assist- 
ance, I suppose,  scarce  ever  come  to  know,  that  ‘ the  square 
of  the  hypothenuse  in  a right  angled  triangle,  is  equal  to  the 
squares  of  the  two  other  sides.’  The  knowledge  that  ‘ the  whole 
is  equal  to  all  its  parts,’  and,  ‘ if  you  take  equals  from  equals, 
the  remainders  will  be  equal,’  helped  him  not,  I presume,  to  this 
demonstration ; and  a man  may,  I think,  pore  long  enough  on 

33 


EEASOX. 


u8() 

these  axioms,  without  ever  seeing  one  jot  the  more  of  mathe- 
matical truths.”  But  surely,  if  this  be  granted,  and  if,  at  the 
same  time,  by  the  fii’st  principles  of  a science  be  meant  those 
fundamental  jiropositions  from  which  its  remoter  truths  are 
derived,  the  axioms  cannot,  with  any  consistency,  be  called  the 
first  jirinciples  of  mathematics.  They  have  not,  it  will  be  ad- 
mitted, the  most  distant  analogy  to  what  are  called  the  first 
principles  of  natural  philosophy;  — to  those  general  facts,  for 
example,  of  the  gravity  and  elasticity  of  the  air,  from  which 
may  be  deduced,  as  consequences,  the  suspension  of  the  mercury 
in  the  Torricellian  tube,  and  its  fall  when  carried  up  to  an 
eminence.  According  to  this  meaning  of  the  word,  the  princi- 
ples of  mathematical  science  are,  not  the  axioms,  but  the  defini- 
tions; which  definitions  hold,  in  mathematics,  precisely  the  same 
place  that  is  held  in  natural  philosophy  by  such  general  facts 
as  have  now  been  referred  to.* 


* In  order  to  prevent  cavil,  it  may  be  necossaiw  for  me  to  remark  here, 
that  when  1 speak  of  mathematical  axioms,  I have  in  view  only  such  as 
are  of  the  same  description  with  the  first  nine  of  those  which  arc  prefixed 
to  the  Elements  of  Euclid  ; for,  in  that  list,  it  is  well  known,  that  there 
arc  several  which  belong  to  a class  of  propositions  altogether  different  from 
the  others.  That  “all  right  angles  (for  example)  are  equal  to  one 
another ; ” that  “ when  one  straight  line  falling  on  two  other  straight  lines 
makes  the  two  interior  angles  on  the  same  side  less  than  two  right  angles, 
these  two  straight  lines,  if  produced,  shall  meet  on  the  side,  where  are  the 
two  angles  less  than  two  right  angles  ; ” are  manifestly  principles  which 
bear  no  analogy  to  such  barren  truisms  as  these,  “ Things  that  are  equal 
to  one  and  the  same  thing,  are  equal  to  one  another.”  “ If  equals  be 
added  to  equals,  the  wholes  are  equal.”  “ If  equals  be  taken  from  equals, 
tbc  remainders  are  equal.”  Of  these  propositions,  the  two  former  (the 
loth  and  11th  axioms,  to  wit,  in  Euclid’s  list)  are  evidently  theorems 
wliich,  in  point  of  strict  logical  accuracy,  ought  to  be  demonstrated  ; as 
may  be  easily  done,  with  respect  to  the  first,  in  a single  sentence.  That 
the  second  has  not  yet  been  proved  in  a simple  and  satisfactory  manner, 
has  been  long  considered  as  a sort  of  reproach  to  mathematicians  ; and 
I have  little  doubt  that  this  reproach  will  continue  to  exist,  till  the  basis 
of  the  science  be  somewhat  enlarged,  by  the  introduction  of  one  or  two 
new  definitions,  to  serve  as  additional  principles  of  geometrical  reasoning. 

[Dr.  Whewell  and  Mr.  ,1.  S.  Mill  have  engaged  in  this  discussion 


REASON. 


387 


From  ■what  principle  are  the  various  properties  of  the  circle 
derived,  but  from  the  definition  of  a circle  ? From  what  prin- 


respecting  the  nature  of  axioms  and  the  first  principles  of  inathemaucal 
reasoning,  the  former  controverting,  and  the  latter  supporting,  the  opinions 
of  Mr.  Stewart.  Yet  the  admission  made  by  Stewart  in  the  former  part 
of  this  note  seems  to  take  away  much  of  the  ground  of  controversy 
between  him  and  Dr.  Whewell.  It  seems  to  be  admitted  on  all  hands,  by 
Mr.  Mill  as  well  as  by  Mr.  Stewart,  that  what  Dr.  AVhewell  calls  “ the 
peculiar  geometrical  axioms,”  such  as  the  10th  and  11th  of  Euclid,  are 
among  the  first  principles  of  geometry, — that,  far  from  being  barren 
triiisms,  like  the  first  nine,  proper  inferences  can  be  deduced  from  them, 
and  the  whole  structure  of  geometry  could  not  be  built  up  without  their 
aid.  The  only  doubt  is,  whether  they  are  properly  called  axioms,  whether 
they  should  not  be  considered  rather  as  theorems,  or  propositions  which 
ought  to  be  demonstrated,  though  geometricians  have  not  as  yet  succeeded 
in  proving  them.  On  the  other  hand.  Dr.  Whewell  does  not  assert  that 
geometrical  reasoning  rests  exclusively  upon  axioms,  but  allows  that  defini- 
tions must  I)C  classed  with  them,  both  together  constituting  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  the  science.  He  urges,  “ that  no  one  has  yet  been  able  to  con- 
struct a system  of  mathematical  truths  by  the  aid  of  definitions  alom; 
that  a definition  would  not  be  admissible  or  applicable,  except  it  agreed 
with  a distinct  conception  in  the  mind  ; that  the  definitions  which  we 
employ  in  mathematics  are  not  arbitrary  or  hypothetical,  but  necessary 
definitions ; and  that  the  real  fouirdation  of  the  truths  of  mathematics  is 
the  idea  of  space,  which  may  be  expressed,  for  purposes  of  demonstration, 
partly  by  definitions  and  partly  by  axioms.” 

Ml-.  Mill  answers,  “ Those  who  say  that  the  premises  of  geometi-y  are 
hypotheses,  are  not  bound  to  maintain  tli£m  to  be  li3-potheses  w'hich  have 
no  relation  whatever  to  fact.  Since  an  hypothesis  framed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  scientific  inquiry  must  relate  to  something  which  has  real  exist- 
ence, (for  there  can  be  no  science  respecting  nonentities,)  it  follows,  that 
any  hypothesis  which  we  make  respecting  an  object,  to  facilitate  our 
study  of  it,  must  not  involve  any  thing  which  is  distinctly  false,  and  re- 
pugnant to  its  real  nature  ; we  must  not  ascribe  to  the  thing  anj-  prop 
erty,  which  it  has  not ; our  liberty  extends  onlj^  to  suppressing  some  of 
those  which  it  has,  under  the  indispensable  obligation  of  restoring  thc^n 
whenever,  and  as  far  as,  their  presence  or  absence  would  make  any 
material  difference  in  the  truth  of  our  conclusion.  Of  this  nature,  ac- 
cordingly, are  the  fii-st  principles  involved  in  the  definitions  of  geometi-}'. 
Iii  their  positive  part,  they  are  observed  facts  ; it  is  only  in  their  negative 
part  that  they  are  hypothetical.” 

It  had  been  previously  remarked  by  Mr.  Mill,  that  “ there  exist  no  real 


388 


REASON. 


ci^jlc  the  properties  of  the  parabola  or  ellipse,  but  from  the 
definitions  of  these  curves?  A similar  observation  may  be  ex- 
tended to  all  the  other  theorems  which  the  mathematician 
demonstrates  ; and  it  is  this  observation  (which,  obvious  as  it 
may  seem,  does  not  appear  to  have  occurred,  in  all  its  force, 


tilings  exactly  conformable  to  the  definitions.  There  exist  no  points  with- 
out magnitude  ; no  lines  without  breadth,  nor  perfectly  straight ; no  circles 
with  all  their  radii  exactly  equal,  nor  squares  with  all  their  angles  perfectly 
right.”  “ To  get  rid  of  this  difficulty,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  save  the 
credit  of  the  supposed  systems  of  necessary  truth,  it  is  customaiy  to  say 
that  the  points,  lines,  circles,  and  squares  which  are  the  subject  of  geome- 
try, exist  in  our  conceptions  merely,  and  are  part  of  our  minds  ; which 
minds,  by  working  on  their  own  materials,  construct  an  a priori  science,  the 
evidence  of  which  is  purely  mental,  and  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
outward  experience.”  This  doctrine,  however,  he  maintains  to  he  psycho- 
logicahji  incorrect;  for  “ we  cannot  conceive  a line  without  breadth;  we  can 
form  no  mental  picture  of  such  a lino ; all  the  lines  which  we  have  in  our 
minds  are  lines  possessing  breadth.”  “ A line,  as  defined  hy  geometers,  is 
wholly  inconceivable.  We  can  reason  about  a line,”  he  admits,  “as  if  it 
had  no  breadth ; ” but  this  is  only  because  we  have  a power  of  attending  to 
a paH  of  our  perception  or  conception,  instead  of  the  whole.  The  conclu- 
sion, therefore,  in  geometry,  is  only  so  far  an  approximation  to  the  truth,  as 
the  points,  lines,  circles,  etc.,  which  are  described  in  the  definitions,  are 
approximations  to  the  real  lines,  circles,  etc.,  which  actually  exist. 

“ The  peculiar  accuracy,”  continues  Mr.  Mill,  “ supposed  to  bo  charac- 
teristic of  the  first  principles  of  geometry,  thus  appears  to  be  fictitious. 
The  assertions,  on  which  the  reasonings  of  the  science  are  founded,  do  not, 
any  more  than  in  other  sciences,  exactly  correspond  with  the  fact ; hut  we 
suppose  that  they  do  so,  for  the  sake  of  tracing  the  consequences  which  fol- 
low from  the  supposition.  The  opinion  of  Dugald  Stewart  respecting  the 
foundations  of  geometry,  is,  I conceive,  substantially  correct; — that  it  is 
built  upon  hypotheses ; that  it  owes  to  this  alone  the  peculiar  certainty 
supposed  to  distinguish  it ; and  that,  in  any  science  whatever,  by  reasoning 
fi'om  a set  of  hypotheses,  we  may  obtain  a body  of  conclusions  as  certain 
as  those  of  geometry;  — that  is,  as  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  hypoth- 
eses, and  as  irresistibly  compelling  assent  on  condition  that  those  hypotheses 
are  true.  When,  therefore,  it  is  affirmed  that  the  conclusions  of  geometry 
are  necessary  truths,  the  necessity  consists  in  reality  only  in  this,  that  tlicy 
necessarily  follow  from  the  suppositions  from  which  they  are  deduced. 
These  suppositions  are  so  far  from  being  neecssary,  that  they  are  not  even 
true  ; they  purposely  depart,  more  or  less  widely,  from  the  truth.”  — 
Mill’s  Logic,  Am.  ed.  pp.  148-151. 


EEASOX. 


389 


either  to  Locke,  to  Reid,  or  to  Campbell,)  that  furnishr.s,  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  true  explanation  of  the  pecuharity  already 
remarked  in  mathematical  evidence. 

But  the  truth  of  the  axioms  is  presupposed  or  implied  in  all  our 
reasonings.  — After  what  has  been  just  stated,  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  for  me  again  to  repeat,  with  regard  to  mathematical 
axioms,  that  although  they  are  not  the  principles  of  our  reason- 
ing, either  in  arithmetic  or  in  geometry,  their  truth  is  supposed 
or  implied  in  all  our  reasonings  in  both ; and,  if  it  were  called 
in  question,  our  further  jn-ogress  would  be  impossible.  In  both 
of  these  respects,  we  shall  find  them  analogous  to  the  other 
classes  of  primary  or  elemental  truths,  which  remain  to  be  con- 
sidered. 

Nor  let  it  be  imagined,  from  this  conces«‘on,  that  the  dispute 
turms  merely  on  the  meaning  annexed  to  the  word  principle. 
It  turns  upon  an  important  question  of  fact;  whether  the 
theorems  of  geometry  rest  on  the  axioms,  hi  the  same  sense  in 
rvhich  they  rest  on  the  definitions?  or  (to  atate  the  question  in 
a manner  still  more  obvious)  whether  ; aoms  hold  a place 
in  geometry  at  all  analogous  to  what  is  occupied  in  natural 
philosophy,  by  those  sensible  phenomena’  ’ hich  form  the  basis 
ef  that  science  ? Dr.  Reid  compare*-  ''hem  sometimes  to  the 
>ne  set  of  propositions,  and  sor-,e<^>  .^s  to  the  other.  If  the 
■'’oregoing  observations  be  just  c'  ov  near  no  analogy  to  either. 

What  are  '•  first  priuciplr , ’ tnscience.  — The  difference 
ff  opinion  between  Lo-jbe  Reid,  of  which  I took  notice  in 
.he  foregoing  par',  o^'  this  sr  ..tion,  appears  greater  than  it  really 
B,  in  consequenc  e >ir  ambiguity  in  the  word  principle,  as 
'.mployed  by  the  /aLe-.  In  its  proper  acceptation,  it  seems  to 
<ae  to  dencte  an  a' sumption,  (whether  resting  on  fact  or  on 
rypothesis,)  upon  which,  as  a datum,  a train  of  reasoning  pro- 
leeds ; and  for  the  falsity  or  incorrectness  of  which,  no  logical 
'.'igor  in  the  subsequent  process  can  compensate.  Thus  the 
gravity  and  the  elasticity  of  the  air,  are  principles  of  reasoning 
m our  speculations  about  the  barometer.  The  equality  of  the 
Angles  of  incidence  and  reflection;  the  proportionality  of  the 
sines  of  incidence  and  refraction ; are  principles  of  reasoning  in 
33* 


390 


REASON. 


catoptrics  and  in  dioptrics.  In  a sense  perfectly  analogous  to 
this,  the  definitions  of  geometry  (all  of  which  are  merely  hy- 
pothetical) are 'the  first  principles  of  reasoning  in  the  subse- 
(juent  demonstrations,  and  the  basis  on  which  the  whole  fabric 
of  the  science  rests. 

I have  called  this  the  proper  acceptation  of  the  word,  be- 
cause it  is  that  in  which  it  is  most  frequently  used  by  the  best 
writers.  It  is  also  most  agreeable  to  the  literal  meaning  which 
its  etymology  suggests,  expressing  the  original  point  from  which 
our  reasoning  sets  out  or  commences. 

Dr.  Reid  often  uses  the  word  in  this  sense,  as,  for  example, 
in  the  following  sentence:  “From  three  or  four  axioms,  which 
he  calls  regulce  philosophandi,  together  with  the  phenomena 
observed  by  the  senses,  which  he  likewise  lays  down  as  Jirst 
principles,  Newton  deduces,  by  strict  reasoning,  the  proposi- 
tions contained  in  the  third  book  of  his  Principia,  and  in  his 
Optics.” 

Another  signif cation  of  ^ Jirst  principles’  — On  other  occa- 
sions, he  uses  the  same  word  to  denote  those  elemental  truths  (if 
I msiy  use  the  expression)  which  are  virtually  taken  for  granted 
or  assumed,  in  every  step  of  our  reasoning ; and  without  which, 
although  no  consequences  can  be  directly  inferred  from  them,  a 
train  of  reasoning  w'ould  be  impossible.  Of  this  kind,  in  mathe- 
matics, ai-e  the  axioms,  or  (as  Mr.  Locke  and  otliers  frequently 
call  them)  the  maxims ; in  physics,  a belief  of  the  continuance 
of  the  Laws  of  Nature  ; in  all  our  reasonings,  without  excep- 
tion, a belief  in  our  oivn  identity,  and  in  the  evidence  of  mem- 
ory. Such  truths  are  the  last  elements  into  which  reasoning 
resolves  itself,  when  subjected  to  a metajdiysical  analysis,  and 
which  no  person  but  a metaphysician  or  a logician  ever  thinks 
of  stating  in  the  form  of  propositions,  or  even  of  expressing 
verbally  to  himself.  It  is  to  truths  of  this  description,  that 
Locke  seems,  in  general,  to  apply  the  name  of  maxims ; and, 
in  tills  sense,  it  is  unquestionably  true,  that  no  science  {iiol  even 
geometry)  is  founded  on  maxims  as  its  first  principles. 

Distinction  between  principles  of  reasoning  and  elements  of 
reasoning.  — In  one  sense  of  the  principle,  indeed,  max 


REASON. 


301 


ims  may  be  called  principles  of  reasoning ; for  tbe  words  prin- 
ciples and  elements  are  sometimes  used  as  synonymous.  Nor 
do  I take  upon  me  to  say  that  this  mode  of  speaking  is  excep- 
tionable. All  that  I assert  is,  that  they  cannot  be  called  princi- 
ples of  reasoning,  in  the  sense  which  has  just  now  been  defined; 
and  that  accuracy  requires,  that  the  word,  on  which  the  whole 
question  hinges,  should  not  be  used  in  both  senses,  in  the  course 
. of  the  same  argument.  It  is  for  this  reason,  that  I have  em- 
ployed the  phrase  principles  of  reasoning  on  the  one  occasion, 
and  elements  of  reasoning  on  the  other. 

It  is  difficult  to  find  unexceptionable  language,  to  mark  dis- 
tinctions so  completely  foreign  to  the  ordinary  purposes  of 
speech ; but,  in  the  present  instance,  the  line  of  separation  is 
strongly  and  clearly  drawn  by  this  criterion,  — that  from  prin- 
ciples of  reasoning,  consequences  may  he  deduced  ; from  what  I 
have  called  elements  of  reasoning,  none  ever  can. 

A process  of  logical  reasoning  has  often  been  likened  to  a 
chain  supporting  a weight.  If  this  similitude  be  adopted,  the 
axioms,  or  elemental  truths  now  mentioned,  may  be  compared 
to  the  successive  concatenations  which  connect  the  different 
links  immediately  with  each  other ; the  principles  of  our  rea- 
soning resemble  the  hook,  or  rather  the  beam,  from  which  the 
whole  is  suspended.* 


* D’Alembert  has  defined  the  word  principle  exactly  in  the  sense  in 
which  I have  used  it;  and  has  expressed  himself  (at  least  on  one  occa- 
sion) nearly  as  I have  done,  on  the  subject  of  axioms. 

“ What,  then,  are  the  truths  which  are  entitled  to  have  a place  in  the 
elements  of  philosophy  i They  are  of  two  kinds  ; those  which  form  the 
head  of  each  part  of  the  chain,  and  those  which  are  to  be  found  at  the 
points  where  different  branches  of  the  chain  unite  together. 

“ Truths  of  the  first  kind  are  distinguished  by  this,  — that  they  do  not 
depend  on  any  other  truths,  and  that  they  possess  within  themselves  the 
whole  grounds  of  their  evidence.  Some  of  my  readers  will  be  apt  to 
suppose,  that  I here  mean  to  speak  of  axioms  ; but  these  are  not  the  truths 
which  I have  at  present  in  view.  With  respect  to  this  last  class  of  princi- 
ples, I must  refer  to  what  I have  elsewhere  said  of  them  ; that,  notwith- 
standing their  truth,  they  add  nothing  to  our  information ; and  that  the 
palpable  evidence  which  accompanies  them,  amounts  to  nothing  more 


31)2 


UEASOX. 


III.  Of  certain  laivs  of  helief  inseparahlij  connected  with  the 
exercise  of  consciousness,  memory,  perception,  and  rcasoniny.  — 
1.  It  is  by  the  immediate  evidence  of  cmtscmitsness,*  that  we 
are  assured  of  the  present  existence  of  our  various  sensations, 
whether  pleasant  or  painful ; of  all  our  affections,  passions, 
hopes,  fears,  desires,  and  volitions.  It  is  thus,  too,  we  ai’e  assured 
of  the  present  existence  of  those  thoughts  which,  during  our 
waking  hours,  are  continually  passing  through  the  mind,  and  of 
all  the  diffei’ent  effects  which  they  produce  in  furnishing  employ- 
ment to  our  intellectual  faculties. 

How  we  come  to  a knowledge  of  our  own  existence.  — Accord- 
ing to  the  common  doctrine  of  our  best  philosophers,  it  is  by  the 
evidence  of  consciousness  we  are  assured  that  we  ourselves 
exist.  The  proposition,  however,  when  thus  stated,  is  not  accu- 
rately true ; for  our  oivn  existence,  as  I have  elsewhere  observed, 
is  not  a direct  or  immediate  object  of  consciousness,  in  the  strict 
and  logical  meaning  of  that  term.  We  are  conscious  of  se?isa- 
tion,  thought,  desire,  volition  ; but  we  are  not  conscious  of  the 
existence  of  mind  itself ; nor  would  it  be  possible  for  us  to 
arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  it,  (supposing  us  to  be  created  in  the 
full  possession  of  all  the  intellectual  capacities  which  belong  to 
human  nature,)  if  no  impressions  were  ever  made  on  our  exter- 
nal senses.  The  moment  that,  in  consequence  of  such  an  im- 
pression, a sensation  is  excited,  we  learn  two  facts  at  once ; — 
the  existence  of  the  sensation,  and  our  own  existence  as  sentient 
beings ; — in  other  words,  the  very  first  exercise  of  conscious- 
ness necessarily  im2:)lies  a belief,  not  only  of  the  present  exist- 
ence of  wliat  is  felt,  but  of  the  present  existence  of  that  which 
feels  and  thinks ; or  (to  employ  plainer  language)  the  present 
existence  of  that  being  which  I denote  by  the  words  I and 
myself.  Of  these  facts,  however,  it  is  the  former  alone  of  which 


tfian  to  an  expression  of  the  same  idea,  by  means  of  two  different  terms. 
On  such  occasions,  the  mind  only  turns  tet  no  purpose  about  its  own  axis, 
without  advancing  forward  a single  step.  Accordingly,  axioms  are  so  far 
from  holding  the  highest  rank  in  philosophy,  that  they  scarcely  deserve 
the  distinction  of  being  formally  enunciated.’' 

[*  See  note  to  page  3.] 


REASON. 


3J3 


we  can  properly  be  said  to  be  conscious,  agreeably  to  the 
j-igorous  interpi’etation  of  the  expression.  A conviction  of  the 
hitser,  although  it  seems  to  be  so  inseparable  from  the  exercise 
of  consciousness,  that  it  can  scarcely  be  considered  as  posterior 
to  it  in  the  order  of  time,  is  yet  (if  I may  be  allowed  to  make 
use  of  a scholastic  distinction)  posterior  to  it  in  the  order  of 
nature;  not  only  as  it  supposes  consciousness  to  be  already 
awakened  by  some  sensation,  or  some  other  mental  affection  ; 
but  as  it  is  evidently  rather  a judgment  accompanying  the  exer- 
cise of  that  power,  than  one  of  its  immediate  intimations  con- 
cerning its  appropriate  class  of  internal  phenomena.  It  appears 
to  me,  therefore,  more  correct  to  call  the  belief  of  our  own 
existence  a concomitant,  or  accessory,  of  the  exercise  of  con- 
sciousness, than  to  say,  that  our  own  existence  is  a fact  failing 
under  the  immediate  cognizance  of  consciousness,  like  the  exist- 
ence of  the  various  agreeably  or  painful  sensations  which 
external  objects  excite  in  our  minds. 

2.  Not  consciousness,  hut  memory,  proves  our  personal  identity. 
— That  we  cannot,  without  a very  blamable  latitude  in  the  use 
of  words,  be  said  to  be  conscious  of  our  personal  identity,  is  a 
proposition  still  more  indisputable  ; inasmuch  as  the  very  idea 
of  personal  identity  involves  the  idea  of  time,  and,  consequently, 
presupposes  the  exercise  not  only  of  consciousness,  but  of 
memory.  The  belief  connected  with  this  idea  is  implied  in 
every  thought  and  every  action  of  the  mind,  and  may  be  justly 
regarded  as  one  of  the  simplest  and  most  essential  elements  of 
the  understanding.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  either 
an  intellectual  or  an  active  being  to  exist  without  it.  It  is, 
however,  extremely  worthy  of  remark,  with  respect  to  this 
belief,  that,  universal  as  it  is  among  our  species,  nobody  but  a 
metaphysician  ever  thinks  of  expressing  it  in  words,  or  of  reduc- 
ing into  the  shape  of  a proposition  the  truth  to  which  it  relates. 
To  the  rest  of  mankind,  it  forms,  not  an  object  of  knowledge, 
but  a condition  or  supposition,  necessarily  and  unconsciously 
involved  in  the  exercise  of  all  their  faculties.  On  a part  of  our 
constitution,  which  is  obviously  one  of  the  last  or  primordial 
elements  at  which  it  is  possible  to  arrive  in  analyzing  our  intel- 


394 


REASON. 


lectual  operations,  it  is  plainly  unpliilosopliical  to  suppose,  that 
any  new  light  can  be  thrown  by  metaphysical  discussion.  All 
that  can  be  done  with  propriety  in  such  cases,  is  to  state  the 
fact. 

3.  Other  elemental  laivs  of  thought.  — The  belief  which  all 
men  entertain  of  the  existence  of  the  material  world,  (I  mean 
their  belief  of  its  existence  independently  of  that  of  percipient 
beings,)  and  their  expectation  of  the  continued  uniformity  of  the 
laws  of  nature,  belong  to  the  same  class  of  ultimate  or  elemental 
laws  of  thought  with  those  which  have  been  just  mentioned. 
The  truths  which  form  their  objects  are  of  an  order  so  radically 
diflerent  from  what  are  commonly  called  truths,  in  the  popular 
acceptation  of  that  word,  that  it  might  perhaps  be  useful  for 
logicians  to  distinguish  them  by  some  appropriate  appellation, 
such,  for  example,  as  tliat  of  metaphysical  or  transcendental 
truths.  They  are  not  principles  or  data  (as  M'ill  afterwards 
R^gacer)  from  ivhich  any  consequence  can  he  deduced;  but  form 
a part  of  those  origined  stamina  of  human  reason,  which  are 
equally  essential  to  all  the  pursuits  of  science,  and  to  all  the 
active  concerns  of  life. 

4.  Confidence  necessarily  reposed  on  memory.  — I shall  only 
take  notice  further,  under  this  head,  of  the  confidence  which  we 
must  necessarily  repose  in  the  evidence  of  memoiy,  (and  I may 
add,  in  the  continuance  of  our  personal  identity,)  when  we  ai’e 
employed  in  carrying  on  any  process  of  deduction  or  argumenta- 
tion ; — in  following  out,  for  instance,  the  steps  of  a long  mathe- 
matical demonstration.  In  yielding  our  assent  to  the  conclusion 
to  which  such  a demonstration  leads,  we  evidently  trust  to  the 
fidelity  with  which  our  memory  has  connected  the  different  links 
of  the  chain  together.  The  reference  which  is  often  made,  in 
the  course  of  a demonstration,  to  projjositions  formerly  proved, 
])laces  the  same  remark  in  a light  still  stronger ; and  shows 
plainly,  that,  in  this  branch  of  knowledge,  which  is  justly  con- 
sidered as  the  most  certain  of  any,  the  authority  of  the  same 
laws  of  belief  which  are  recognized  in  the  ordinary  pursuits  of 
life,  is  tacitly  acknowledged.  Deny  the  evidence  of  memory  as  a 
ground  of  certain  knowledge,  and  you  destroy  the  foundations 


REASON. 


3U5 


of  mathematical  science  as  completely  as  if  you  were  to  deny 
the  truth  of  the  axioms  assumed  by  Euclid. 

The  foregoing  examples  sufficiently  illustrate  the  nature  of 
that  class  of  truths  which  I have  called  Fundamental  Laws  of 
Human  Belief  or  Primary  Elements  of  Human  Season.  A 
variety  of  others,  not  less  important,  might  be  added  to  the 
list ; * but  these  I shall  not  at  present  stop  to  enumerate,  as  my 
chief  object  in  introducing  the  subject  here,  was  to  explain  the 
common  relation  in  which  they  all  stand  to  deductive  evidence. 
In  this  point  of  view,  two  analogies,  or  rather  coincidences,  be- 
tween the  truths  which  we  have  been  last  considering,  and  the 
mathematical  axioms  whicli  were  treated  of  formerly,  immedi- 
ately present  themselves  to  our  notice. 

Analogies  between  these  elemental  truths  and  mathematical 
axioms.  — 1.  From  neither  of  these  classes  of  truths  can  any 
direct  inference  be  drawn  for  the  further  enlargement  of  our 
knowledge.  This  remark  has  been  ah'eady  shown  to  hold  uni- 
versally with  respect  to  the  axioms  of  geometry ; and  it  applies 
equally  to  what  I have  called  Fundamental  Laws  of  Human 
Belief.  From  such  propositions  as  these,  — L exist ; lam  the 
same  person  to-day.,  that  L was  yesterday  ; the  material  icorld  has 
an  existence  independent  of  my  mind  ; the  general  laws  of  nature 
will  continue,  in  future,  to  operate  uniformly  as  in  time  j^ctst,  — 
no  inference  can  be  deduced,  any  more  than  from  the  intuitive 
truths  prefixed  to  the  Elements  of  Euclid.  Abstracted  from 
other  data,  they  are  perfectly  barren  in  themselves  ; nor  can 
any  possible  combmation  of  them  help  the  mind  forward  one 
single  step  in  its  progress.  It  is  for  this  reason,  that  instead  of 
calling  them,  with  some  other  writers,  frst  principles,  I have  dis- 
tinguished them  by  the  title  of  fundamental  laws  of  belief;  the 
former  word  seeming  to  me  to  denote,  according  to  common 
usage,  some  fact,  or  some  supposition,  from  which  a series  of 
consequences  may  be  deduced. 


* Such,  for  example,  as  our  belief  of  the  existence  of  efficient  causes  ; 
our  belief  of  the  existence  of  other  intelligent  beings  besides  ourselves, 
etc.  etc. 


REASON. 


39  C 

If  tlie  account  now  given  of  these  laws  of  belief  be  just,  the 
great  argument  which  has  been  commonly  urged  in  support  of 
their  authority,  and  which  manifestly  confounds  them  with  what 
are  properly  called  principles  of  reasoning,  is  not  at  all  appli- 
cable to  the  subject ; or,  at  least,  does  not  rest  the  point  in  dis- 
jmte  upon  its  right  foundation.  If  there  were  no  first  princi- 
ples, (it  has  been  said,)  or,  in  other  words,  if  a reason  could  be 
given  for  every  thing,  no  process  of  deduction  could  possibly  be 
brought  to  a conclusion.* 

The  remark  is  indisputably  true ; but  it  only  proves  (what 
no  logician  of  the  present  times  will  venture  to  deny)  that  the 
mathematician  could  not  demonsti’ate  a single  theorem,  unless 
he  were  first  allowed  to  lay  down  his  definitions  ; nor  the  nat- 
ural philosopher,  explain  or  account  for  a single  phenomenon, 
unless  he  were  allowed  to  assume,  as  acknowledged  facts,  cer- 
tain general  laws  of  nature.  What  inference  does  this  afford 
in  favor  of  that  particular  class  of  truths  to  which  the  preced- 
ing observations  relate,  and  against  which  the  ingenuity  of  mod- 


* Aristotle  himself  has  more  than  once  made  this  remark ; more  partic- 
ularly in  discussing  the  absurd  question,  Whether  it  be  possible  for  the 
same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be?  A^iovai  6e  «ai  tovto  anoieiKVVvai  Tiveg 
6i’  anatdevaiav.  'Eari  yap  arcacdevaia,  to  prj  yivcjaKsiv  nvuv  6ei  ^TjTCiv  anoi^si^iv, 
Kai  TLVuv  ov  del.  'Oilof  per  yap  dnavTuv  aSwarov  anodsi^iv  civai.  Etf 
amipov  yap  av  paSi^oi  • uarE  oiruf  sivai  anodei^cv.  — Aristot.  Meta- 
phys.  vol.  ii.  p.  873.  Edit,  du  Val. 

“ But  there  are  some  who,  through  ignorance,  make  an  attempt  to 
prove  even  this  principle,  (that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be 
and  not  to  be).  For  it  is  a mark  of  ignorance  not  to  he  able  to  distinguish 
those  things  which  ought  to  be  demonstrated  from  things  of  which  no 
demonstration  should  be  attempted.  In  truth,  it  is  altogether  impossible 
that  every  thing  should  be  susceptible  of  demonstration ; otherwise,  the 
process  would  extend  to  infinity,  and,  after  all  our  labor,  nothing  would 
be  gained.”  In  the  sentence  immediately  preceding  this  quotation,  Aris- 
totle calls  the  maxim  in  question,  pePaiOTaTy  tuv  apxuv  naauiv,  “ the  most 
certain  of  all  principles.” 

To  the  same  purpose.  Dr.  Eeid  has  said,  “ I hold  it  to  be  certain,  and 
even  demonstrable,  that  all  knowledge  got  by  reasoning,  must  be  built  on 
first  principles.  This,”  he  adds,  “ is  as  certain  as  that  every  house  must 
have  a foundation.” 


REASON. 


397 


ero  skeptics  has  been  more  particularly  directed  ? If  I be  not 
deceived,  these  truths  are  still  more  intimately  connected  with 
the  operations  of  the  reasoning  faculty  than  has  been  generally 
imagined;  not  as  the  principles  (apxai)  from  vrhich  our  reason- 
ings set  out,  and  on  which  they  ultimately  depend  ; hut  as  the  nec- 
essary conditions  on  which  every  step  of  the  deduction  tacitly 
proceeds  ; or  rather  (if  I may  use  the  expression)  as  essential 
elements  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  reason  itself. 

2.  In  this  last  remark,  I have  anticipated,  in  some  measure, 
what  I had  to  state  with  respect  to  the  second  coincidence 
alluded  to,  between  mathematical  axioms  and  the  other  propo- 
sitions wliich  I comprehended  under  the  general  title  of  funda- 
mental laws  of  human  belief.  As  the  truth  of  axioms  is  vir- 
tually presuppo.sed,  or  implied,  in  the  successive  steps  of  every 
demonstration,  so,  hi  every  step  of  our  reasonings  concerning  the 
order  of  nature,  we  proceed  on  the  supposition,  that  the  laws  by 
which  it  is  regulated,  ivill  continue  uniform  as  in  time  past ; 
and  that  the  material  universe  has  an  existence  independent  of 
our  perce'ptions.  I need  scarcely  add,  that,  in  all  our  reasonings 
whatever,  whether  they  relate  to  necessary  or  to  contingent 
truths,  our  oivn  personal  identity,  and  the  evidence  of  memory, 
are  virtucdly  taken  for  granted.  These  different  truths  all  agree 
in  this,  that  they  ai'e  essentially  involved  in  the  exercise  of  our 
rational  powers ; although,  in  themselves,  they  furnish  no  prin- 
ciples or  data  by  which  the  sphere  of  our  knowledge  can,  by  an 
ingenuity,  be  enlarged.  They  agree,  further,  in  being  tacitly 
acknou'ledged  by  all  men,  learned  or  ignorant,  without  any  formal 
enunciation  in  words,  or  even  any  conscious  exercise  of  reflec- 
tion. It  is  only  at  that  period  of  our  intellectual  progress,  when 
scientific  arrangements  and  metaphysical  refinements  begin  to 
be  introduced,  that  they  become  objects  of  attention  to  the 
mind,  and  assume  the  foi’m  of  propositions. 

Objections  to  the  phrase,  frinciplcs  of  common  sense. — To 
• the  class  of  truths  which  I have  here  called  laws  of  belief,  or 
elements  of  reason,  the  title  of  principles  of  common  sense  was 
long  ago  given  by  Father  Buffier,  whose  language  and  doctrine 


398 


REASOIS. 


concerning  them  bear  a reiy  striking  resemblance  to  those  of 
some  of  our  later  Scottish  logicians.  This,  at  least,  strikes  me 
as  the  meaning  which  these  writei’s,  in  general,  annex  to  the 
phrase ; although  all  of  them  have  frequently  employed  it  with 
a far  greater  degree  of  latitude.  When  thus  limited  in  its 
acceptation,  it  is  obviously  liable,  in  point  of  scientific  accuracy, 
to  two  veiy  strong  objections,  both  of  which  have  been  already 
sufficiently  illustrated.  The  first  is,  that  it  applies  the  appella- 
tion of  principles  to  laws  of  belief  from  which  no  inference  can 
be  deduced ; the  second,  that  it  refers  the  origin  of  these  laws 
to  common  sense.  Nor  is  this  phraseology  more  agreeable  to 
popular  use  than  to  logical  precision.  If  we  were  to  siqipose 
an  individual  whose  conduct  betrayed  a disbelief  of  his  own 
existence,  or  of  his  own  identity,  or  of  the  reality  of  surround- 
ing objects,  it  would,  by  no  means,  amount  to  an  adequate 
description  of  his  condition,  to  say,  that  he  was  destitute  of  co?«- 
7non  sense.  We  should  at  once  pronounce  him  to  be  destitute 
of  reason,  and  would  no  longer  consider  him  as  a fit  subject  of 
discipline  or  of  punishment.  The  former  expression,  indeed, 
would  only  imply  that  he  was  apt  to  fall  into  absurdities  and 
improprieties  in  the  common  concerns  of  life.  To  denominate, 
therefore,  such  laws  of  belief  as  we  have  now  been  considering, 
constituent  elements  of  human  reason,  while  it  seems  quite  unex- 
ceptionable in  point  of  technical  distinctness,  cannot  be  justly 
censured  as  the  slightest  deviation  from  our  habitual  forms  of 
speech.  On  the  same  grounds,  it  may  be  fairly  questioned, 
whether  the  word  Reason  would  not,  on  some  occasions,  be  the 
best  substitute  which  our  language  affords  for  intuition,  in  that 
enlarged  acceptation  which  has  been  given  to  it  of  late.  If 
not  quite  so  definite  and  precise  as  might  be  wished,  it  would 
be  at  least  employed  in  one  of  those  significations  in  which  it 
is  already  familiar  to  every  ear ; whereas  the  meaning  of  mtui- 
tion,  when  used  for  the  same  purpose,  is  stretched  very  far 
beyond  its  ordinary  limits,  And  in  cases  of  this  sort,  where  we 
have  to  choose  between  two  terms,  neither  of  which  is  altogether 
unexceptionable,  it  will  be  found  much  safer  to  trust  to  the  con- 


REASON. 


399 


text  for  restricting,  in  the  reader’s  mind,  what  is  too  general, 
than  for  enlarging  what  use  has  accustomed  us  to  interpret  in  a 
sense  too  narrow.* 


* I In  his  “ Account  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Dr.  Reid,”  Mr.  Stewart 
remarks,  “ that  the  question  about  the  propriety  of  the  phrase  common, 
sense  must  be  decided  by  an  appeal  to  general  practice ; for,  although  it  be 
allowable,  and  even  necessary,  for  a philosopher  to  limit  the  acceptation  of 
words  which  are  employed  vaguely  in  common  discourse,  it  is  always 
dangerous  to  give  to  a word  a scientific  meaning  essentially  distinct  from 
that  in  which  it  is  usually  understood.  It  has,  at  least,  the  effect  of  mislead- 
ing those  who  do  not  enter  deeply  into  the  subject ; and  of  giving  a para- 
doxical appearance  to  doctrines,  which,  if  expressed  in  more  unexception- 
able terms,  would  be  readily  admitted. 

“ It  appears  to  me,  that  this  has  actually  happened  in  the  present  in- 
stance. The  phrase  common  sense,  as  it  is  generally  understood,  is  nearly 
synonymous  with  mother  wit,  denoting  that  degree  of  sagacity,  depending 
partly  on  original  capacity,  and  partly  on  personal  experience  and  observa- 
tion, which  qualifies  an  individual  for  those  simple  and  essential  occupa- 
tions which  all  men  are- called  on  to  exercise  habitually  by  their  common 
nature.  In  this  acceptation,  it  is  opposed  to  those  mental  acquirements 
which  are  derived  from  a regular  education  and  from  the  study  of  books  ; and 
refers,  not  to  the  speculative  convictions  of  the  understanding,  but  to  that 
prudence  and  discretion  which  are  the  foundation  of  successful  conduct. 
Such  is  the  idea  which  Pope  annexes  to  the  word,  when,  speaking  of  good 
sense,  which  means  only  a more  than  ordinary  share  of  common  sense,  he 
calls  it 

“ the  gift  of  heaven. 

And  though  no  science,  foirly  worth  the  seven.” 

“ To  speak,  accordingly,  of  appealing  from  the  conclusions  of  philosophy 
to  common  sense,  had  the  appearance,  to  title-page  readers,  of  appealing 
from  the  verdict  of  the  learned  to  the  voice  of  the  multitude  ; or  of  at- 
tempting to  silence  free  discussion,  by  a reference  to  some  arbitrary  and 
unJefinable  standard,  distinct  from  any  of  the  intellectual  powers  hitherto 
enumerated  by  logicians.  Whatever  countenance  may  be  supposed  to 
have  been  given  by  some  writers  to  such  an  interpretation  of  this  mode 
of  expression,  I may  venture  to  assert  that  none  is  afforded  by  the  works 
of  Dr.  Reid.  The  standard  to  which  he  appeals,  is  neither  the  creed  of 
a particular  sect,  nor  the  inward  light  of  enthusiastic  presumption  ; but 
that  constitution  of  Iiaman  nature,  without  which  all  the  business  of  the  world 
would  immediately  cease;  and  the  substance  of  his  doctrine  amounts  merely 
to  this,  that  those  essential  laws  of  belief,  to  which  skeptics  have  objected  when 
considered  in  connection  with  our  scientific  reasonings,  are  implied  in  every  step 


400 


KEASOiV. 


I must  add,  too,  in  opposition  to  the  high  authorities  of  Dr. 
Johnson  and  Dr.  Beattie,  that,  for  many  years  past,  Reason  has 
been  very  seldom  used  by  philosophical  writers,  or,  indeed,  by 
correct  writers  of  any  desci'iption,  as  synonymous  with  the 
power  of  reasoning.  To  appeal  to  the  light  of  human  reason 
from  tlie  reasonings  of  the  schools,  is  surely  an  expression  to 


loe  take  as  active  beings ; and  if  called  in  question  hj  any  man  in  his  practical 
concerns,  would  expose  him  universallg  to  the  charge  of  insanitg.” 

Sir  William  Hamilton  adheres  to  the  phrase  Philosophy  of  Common  Sense, 
and  thus  argues  in  fttvor  of  its  strictly  scientific  and  authoritative  char- 
acter. “ How,  it  is  asked,  do  these  priniaiy  propositions  — these  cognitions 
.at  first  hand  — these  fundamental  facts,  feelings,  beliefs,  certify  us  of  their 
own  veracity'?  To  this  the  only  possible  answer  is  — that  as  elements  of 
our  mental  constitution — as  the  essential  conditions  of  our  knowledge  — 
they  must  by  us  be  accepted  as  true.  To  suppose  their  falsehood,  is  to 
suppose  that  we  are  created  capable  of  intelligence,  in  order  to  be  made 
the  victims  of  delusion ; that  God  is  a deceiver,  and  the  root  of  our  nature 
a lie.  But  such  a supposition,  if  gratuitous,  is ‘manifestly  illegitimate. 
Tor,  on  the  contrary,  the  data  of  our  original  consciousness  must,  it  is 
evident,  in  the  first  instance,  be  presumed  true.  It  is  only  if  proved  false, 
that  their  authority  can,  in  consequence  of  that  proof  be,  in  the  second  in- 
stance, disallowed.  Speaking,  therefore,  generally,  to  argue  from  common 
sense,  is  simply  to  show,  that  the  denial  of  a given  proposition  would 
involve  the  denial  of  some  original  datum  of  consciousness  ; but  as  every 
original  datum  of  consciousness  is  to  be  presumed  true,  that  the  proposi- 
tion in  question,  as  dependent  on  such  a principle,  must  be  admitted. 

“ Here,  however,  it  is  proper  to  take  a distinction  between  the  data  or 
deliverances  of  consciousness  considered  simply,  in  themselves,  as  appre- 
hended facts  or  actual  manifestations,  and  those  deliverances  considered  ns 
testimonies  to  the  truth  of  facts  beyond  their  own  phenomenal  reality. 

“ Viewed  under  the  former  limitation,  they  are  beyond  all  skepticism. 
Tor  ns  doubt  is  itself  only  a manifestation  of  consciousness,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  doubt  that,  what  consciousness  manifests  it  does  manifest,  without,  in 
thus  doubting,  doubting  that  we  actually  doubt ; that  is,  without  the  doubt 
contradicting  and  therefore  annihilating  itself.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  facts 
of  consciousness,  as  mere  phenomena,  are,  by  the  unanimous  confession 
of  all  Skeptics  and  Idealists,  ancient  and  modern,  placed  high  above  the 
reach  of  question. 

“ Though  the  argument  from  common  sense  is  an  appeal  to  the  natural 
convictions  of  manldnd,  it  is  not  an  appeal  from  philosophy  to  blind  feel- 
ing. It  is  only  an  appeal  from  the  heretical  conclusions  of  particular 


SEASON. 


401 


which  no  good  objection  can  be  made,  on  the  score  either  of 
vagueness  or  of  novelty.  Nor  has  the  etymological  ajp.nity  be- 
tween these  two  words,  the  slightest  tendency  to  throw  any 
obscurity  on  the  foregoing  expression.  On  the  contrary,  this 
affinity  may  be  of  use  in  some  of  our  future  arguments,  by 


pliilosoplicrs,  to  the  catholic  principles  of  all  philosophy.  The  prejudice 
which,  on  this  supposition,  has  sometimes  been  excited  against  the  argu- 
ment, is  groundless. 

“ Nor  is  it  true,  that  the  argument  from  common  sense  denies  the  decision 
to  the  judgment  of  philosophers,  and  accords  it  to  the  verdict  of  the  vul- 
gar. Nothing  can  be  more  erroneous.  We  admit — nay,  we  maintain,  as 
D’Alembert  well  expresses  it,  “ that  the  truth  in  metaphysic,  like  the  truth 
in  matters  of  taste,  is  a truth  of  which  all  minds  have  the  germ  within 
themselves;  to  which,  indeed,  the  greater  number  pay  no  attention,  but 
which  they  recognize  the  moment  it  is  pointed  out  to  them.  But  if,  in  this 
sort,  all  are  able  to  understand,  all  are  not  able  to  instruct.  The  merit  of 
conveying  easily  to  others  true  and  simple  notions,  is  much  greater  than 
is  commonly  supposed ; for  experience  proves  how  rarely  this  is  to  be 
met  with.  Sound  metaphysical  ideas  arc  common  truths  which  every  one 
apprehends,  but  which  few  have  the  talent  to  develop.  So  difficult  is 
it,  on  any'  subject,  to  make  our  own  what  belongs  to  every  one.”  Or,  to 
employ  the  words  of  the  ingenious  Lichtenberg  — “Philosophy,  twist  the 
matter  as  we  may,  is  always  a sort  of  chemistry.  The  peasant  employs 
all  the  principles  of  abstract  philosophy,  only  enveloped,  latent,  engaged,  as 
the  men  of  physical  science  express  it ; the  philosopher  exhibits  the  pure 
principle.” 

“The  first  problem  of  Philosophy  — and  it  is  one  of  no  easy  accom- 
plishment— being  thus  to  seek  out,  purify,  and  establish,  by  intellectual 
analysis  and  criticism,  the  elementary  feelings  or  belief,  in  which  are 
given  the  elementary  truths  of  which  all  are  in  possession ; and  the  argu- 
ment from  common  sense  being  the  allegation  of  these  feelings  or  beliefs 
as  explicated  and  ascertained,  in  proof  of  the  relative  truths  and  their 
necessary  consequences  ; — this  argument  is  manifestly  dependent  on 
philosophy,  as  an  art,  as  an  acquired  dexterity,  and  cannot,  notwithstand- 
ing the  errors  which  they  have  so  frequently  committed,  be  taken  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  philosophers.  Common  Sense  is  like  Common  Law. 
Each  may  be  laid  down  as  the  general  rule  of  decision ; but  in  the  one 
case,  it  must  be  left  to  the  jurist,  in  the  other,  to  the  philosopher,  to 
ascertain  what  are  the  contents  of  the  rule  ; and  though,  in  both  instances, 
the  common  man  may  be  cited  as  a witness,  for  the  custom  or  the  fact, 
in  neither  can  he  be  allowed  to  officiate  as  advocate  or  as  judge.”-  — 
Supplementary  Dissertations  to  Reid,  pp.  T-i-3,  744,  751,  752.] 

34* 


402 


REASON. 


keeping  constantly  in  view,  the  close  and  inseparable  connection 
which  will  be  afterwards  shown  to  exist  between  the  two  differ- 
ent intellectual  operations  which  are  thus  brought  into  immedi- 
ate contrast. 

Opinions  of  the  ancients  respecting  the  argument  from  uni- 
versal consent.  — “ Those  things  are  to  be  regarded  as  first 
truths,  [says  Aristotle,]  the  credit  of  which  is  not  derived  from 
other  truths,  but  is  inherent  in  themselves.  As  for  probable 
ix'uths,  they  are  such  as  are  admitted  by  all  men,  or  by  the  gen- 
erality of  men,  or  by  wise  men ; and,  among  these  last,  either 
by  all  the  wise,  or  by  the  generality  of  the  wise,  or  by  such  of 
the  wise  as  are  of  the  highest  authority.” 

The  argument  frqm  Universal  Consent,  on  which  so  much 
stress  is  laid  by  many  of  the  ancients,  is  the  same  doctrine  with 
the  foregoing,  under  a form  somewhat  different.  It  is  stated 
with  great  simplicity  and  force  by  a Platonic  philosopher,  [Max- 
imus Tyrius,]  in  the  following  sentences : — 

“In  such  a contest,  and  tumult,  and  disagreement,  (about 
other  matters  of  opinion.)  you  may  see  this  one  law  and  lan- 
guage acknowledged  by  common  accord.  This  the  Greek  says, 
and  this  the  barbarian  says ; and  the  inhabitant  of  the  conti- 
nent, and  the  islander ; and  the  wise,  and  the  unwise.” 

Ohjection  to  which  the  argument  is  liable.  — It  cannot  be 
denied,  that  against  this  summary  species  of  logic,  when  em- 
ployed without  any  collateral  lights,  as  an  infallible  touchstone 
of  philosophical  truth,  a strong  objection  immediately  occurs. 
By  what  test,  it  may  be  asked,  is  a principle  of  common  sense 
to  be  distinguished  from  one  of  those  prejudices  to  which  the 
whole  human  race  are  irresistibly  led,  in  the  first  instance,  by 
the  very  constitution  of  their  nature?  If  no  test  or  criterion 
of  truth  can  be  pointed  out  but  universal  consent,  may  not 
all  those  errors  which  Bacon  has  called  idola  trihus,*  claim  a 


* \Tdoh  of  the  Tribe,  as  they  are  called  in  the  fanciful  nomenclature  of 
Lord  Bacon,  are  the  errors  and  prejudices  to  which  oH  men  (the  whole 
irihr ) are  liahlc,  because  they  grow  out  of  the  natural  imperfections  and 
biases  of  the  human  understanding.  “For  the  light  of  the  human  intel- 


EEASOX. 


403 


right  to  admission  among  the  incontrovertible  maxims  of  sci- 
ence ? And  might  not  the  popular  cavils  against  the  supposi- 
tion of  the  earth’s  motion,  which  so  long  obstructed  the  pi’og- 
ress  of  the  Copernican  system  have  been  legitimately  opposed, 
as  a reply  of  paramount  authority,  to  all  the  scientific  reason- 
ings by  which  it  was  supported  ? 

Criteria  of  First  Truths.  — It  is  much  to  be  wished  that  this 
objection,  of  which  Dr.  Reid  could  not  fail  to  be  fully  aware, 
had  been  more  particularly  examined  and  discussed  in  some  of 
his  publications,  than  he  seems  to  have  thought  necessary. 
From  different  parts  of  his  works,  however,  various  important 
hints  towards  a satisfactory  answer  to  it  might  be  easily  col- 
lected. At  present,  I shall  only  remark,  that  although  univer- 
sality of  belief  is  one  of  the  tests  by  which,  according  to  him,  a 
principle  of  common  sense  is  characterized,  it  is  not  the  only 
test  which  he  represents  as  essential.  Long  before  his  time. 
Father  Butfier,  in  his  excellent  treatise  on  Fmst  Truths,  had 
laid  great  stress  on  two  other  circumstances,  as  criteria  to  be 
attended  to  on  such  occasions ; and  although  I do  not  recollect 
any  passage  in  Reid  where  they  are  so  explicitly  stated,  yet  the 
general  spirit  of  his  reasonings  plainly  shows,  that  he  had  them 
constantly  in  view,  in  all  the  practical  applications  of  his  doc- 
trine. The  first  criterion  mentioned  by  Buffier  is,  “ That  the 
truths  assumed  as  maxims  of  common  sense  should  he  such,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  any  disputant  either  to  defend  or  to  attach 
them,  hut  hy  means  of  propositions  which  are  neither  more  mani- 
fest nor  more  certain  than  the  propositions  in  question.”  The 


leet,”  says  Lord  Bacon,  “ is  not  dry  light ; but  it  receives  diverse  stains 
and  hues  from  the  will  and  the  affections,  and  thus  creates  such  sciences 
as  it  longs  for ; for  it  readily  believes  what  it  wishes  to  be  true.”  And 
again,  “ It  is  wrong  to  say,  that  the  senses  are  the  proper  measures  of 
things ; for  all  our  perceptions,  whether  of  sense  or  of  the  intellect,  conform 
rather  to  the  nature  of  the  observer,  than  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  ob- 
served. The  human  mind  is  like  a iniiTor  imperfectly  polished  and  inac- 
curately shaped,  which  imparts  its  own  qualities  to  the  objeets  reflected 
in  it,  distorting  and  staining  them.” — Nov.  Organum,  Aph.  XLI.  and 
XLIX.  paraphrased.] 


404 


REASON. 


second  criterion  is,  “ That  their  'practical  influence  should 
extend  even  to  those  individuals  who  afl^ect  to  dispute  their 
authority." 

To  these  remarks  of  Buffier,  it  may  not  be  altogether  super- 
fluous to  add,  that,  wherever  a prejudice  is  found  to  obtain  uni- 
versally among  mankind  in  any  stage  of  society,  this  prejudice 
must  have  some  foundation  in  the  general  principles  of  our 
nature,  and  must  proceed  upon  some  truth  or  fact  inaccurately 
apprehended  or  erroneously  applied.  The  suspense  of  judg- 
ment, therefore,  which  is  proper  with  respect  to  particular  opin- 
ions, till  they  be  once  fairly  examined,  can  never  justify  scepti- 
cism with  respect  to  the  general  laws  of  the  human  mind.  Our 
belief  of  the  sun’s  motion,  is  not  a conclusion  to  which  we  are 
necessarily  led  by  any  such  law,  but  an  inference  rashly  drawn 
from  the  perceptions  of  sense,  which  do  not  warrant  such  an 
inference.  All  that  we  see  is,  that  a relative  change  of  position 
between  us  and  the  sun  takes  place ; and  this  fact,  which  is 
made  known  to  us  by  our  senses,  no  subsequent  discovery  of 
philosophy  pretends  to  disprove.  It  is  not,  therefore,  the  evi- 
dence of  perception  which  is  overturned  by  the  Copernican 
system,  but  a judgment  or  inference  of  the  understanding,  of 
the  rashness  of  which  every  person  must  be  fully  sensible,  the 
moment  he  is  made  to  reflect  with  due  attention  on  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case  ; and  the  doctrine  which  this  system  substi- 
tutes, instead  of  our  first  crude  apprehensions  on  the  subject,  is 
founded,  not  on  any  process  of  reasoning  a priori,  but  on  the 
demonstrable  inconsistency  of  these  apprehensions  with  the 
various  phenomena  which  our  perceptions  present  to  us.  Had 
Copernicus  not  only  asserted  the  stability  of  the  sun,  but,  witli 
some  of  the  Sophists  of  old,  denied  that  any  such  thing  as  mo- 
tion exists  in  the  universe,  his  theory  would  have  been  precisely 
analogous  to  that  of  the  non-existence  of  matter;  and  no  answer 
to  it  could  have  been  thought  of  more  pertinent  and  philosophi- 
cal, than  that  which  Plato  is  said  to  have  given  to  the  same 
paradox  in  the  mouth  of  Zeno,  by  rising  up  and  walking  before 
his  eyes. 


REASOALNG  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


405 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  REASONING  AND  OF  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

I.  Doubts  with  respect  to  LocTce’s  distinction  between  the  powers 
of  intuition  and  reasoning.  — Although,  in  treating  of  this 
branch  of  the  philosophy  of  the  mind,  I have  followed  the 
example  of  preceding  writers,  so  far  as  to  speak  of  intuition 
and  reasoning  as  two  different  faculties  of  the  understanding,  I 
am  by  no  means  satisfied  that  there  exists  between  them  that 
radical  distinction  which  is  commonly  apprehended.  Dr.  Beattie, 
in  his  Essay  on  Truth,  has  attempted  to  show,  that,  how  closely 
soever  they  may  in  general  be  connected,  yet  that  this  connec- 
tion is  not  necessary ; insomuch  that  a being  may  be  conceived 
endued  with  the  one,  and  at  the  same  time  destitute  of  the  other. 
Something  of  this  kind,  he  remarks,  takes  place  in  dreams  and 
in  madness ; in  both  of  which  states  of  the  system,  the  power 
of  reasoning  appears  occasionally  to  be  retained  in  no  inconsider- 
able degree,  while  the  power  of  intuition  is  suspended  or  lost.* 
But  this  doctrine  is  liable  to  obvious  and  to  insurmountable  ob- 
jections ; and  has  plainly  taken  its  rise  from  the  vagueness  of 
the  phrase  common  sense,  which  the  author  employs,  through  the 
whole  of  his  argument,  as  synonymous  with  the  power  of  intui- 
tion. Of  the  indissoluble  connection  between  the  last  power 


* [Locke  very  acutely  observes,  that  the  difference  between  an  idiot  and 
a madman  consists  in  this  ; — that  a madman  reasons  correctly  from  wrong 
premises,  while  an  idiot  does  not  reason  at  all.  “ Thus  you  shall  find 
a distracted  man  fancying  himself  a king,  and,  with  a right  inference, 
requiring  suital)le  attendance,  respect,  and  obedience ; others,  who  have 
thought  themselves  made  of  glass,  have  used  the  caution  necessary  to 
preserve  such  brittle  bodies.”  Now  the  wrong  premises  that  the  madman 
adopts  are  often  false  sensations,  as  the  medical  men  call  them;  as  when  one 


40G  REASONING-  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

and  that  of  reasoning,  no  other  proof  is  necessary  tlian  die  fol- 
lowing consideration,  that,  “ in  every  step  wliich  reason  makes 
in  demonstrative  knowledge,  there  must  be  intuitive  certainty ; ” 
a proposition  which  Locke  has  excellently  illustrated,  and  which, 
since  his  time,  has  been  acquiesced  in,  so  far  as  I know,  by 
philosophers  of  all  descriptions.  From  this  proposition  (which, 
when  properly  interpreted,  appears  to  me  to  be  perfectly  just) 
it  obviously  follows,  that  the  power  of  reasoning  presupposes  the 
poiver  of  intuition ; and,  therefore,  the  only  question  about 
which  any  doubt  can  be  entertained  is,  whether  the  power  of  in- 
tuition (according  to  Locke’s  idea  of  it)  does  not  also  imply  that 
of  reasoning  ? My  own  opinion  is,  decidedly,  that  it  does ; at 
least,  when  combined  with  the  faculty  of  memory.  In  examin- 
ing those  processes  of  thought  which  conduct  the  mind  by  a 
series  of  consequences  from  premises  to  a conclusion,  I can 
detect  no  intellectual  act  whatever,  which  the  joint  operation  of 
intuition  and  of  memory  does  not  sufficiently  explain. 

Reasoning  resolved  into  intuition  and  memory.  — Before,  how- 
ever, 2iroceeding  further  in  this  discussion,  it  is  prop>er  for  me  to 
observe,  by  way  of  comment  on  the  2)ro}30sition  just  quoted  from 
Locke,  that,  although  “ in  a complete  demonstration,  there  must 
be  intuitive  evidence  at  every  step,”  it  is  not  to  be  sujiposed 
that,  in  every  demonstration,  all  the  various  intuitive  judgments 
leading  to  the  conclusion  are  actually  presented  to  our  thoughts. 
In  by  far  the  greater  number  of  instances,  we  trust  entirely  to 
judgments  resting  upon  the  evidence  of  memory;  by  the  help 
of  which  faculty,  we  are  enabled  to  connect  together  the  most 
remote  truths,  with  the  very  same  confidence  as  if  the  one  were 
an  immediate  consequence  of  the  other.  Nor  does  this  diminish. 


fancies  that  lie  hears  voices  in  the  air,  or  sees  spectres,  the  voices  and  the 
sights  being  alike  unreal.  These  imaginary  perceptions  would  be  denomi- 
nated by  Kant  false  intuitions;  and  if  this  be  a proper  use  of  language, 
Beattie  properly  distinguishes  intuition  from  reasoning,  when  he  affirms  that 
we  can  conceive  of  a being  endued  with  the  one,  and  destitute  of  the  other. 
An  insane  person  is  such  a being ; he  reasons  rightly,  but  his  intuitive 
faculty  is  perverted.  But  Stewart  here  understands  intuition  to  be,  not  a 
perception,  but  an  instantaneous  Judgment.] 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


407 


in  the  smallest  degree,  the  satisfaction  we  feel  in  following  such 
a train  of  reasoning.  On  the  contrary,  nothing  can  be  more 
disgusting  than  a demonstration  where  even  the  simplest  and 
most  obvious  steps  are  brought  forward  to  view ; and  where  no 
appeal  is  made  to  that  stock  of  previous  knowledge  which 
memory  has  identified  with  the  operations  of  reason.  Still, 
however,  it  is  true,  that  it  is  by  a continued  chain  of  intuitive 
judgments,  that  the  whole  science  of  geometry  hangs  together ; 
inasmuch  as  the  demonstration  of  any  one  projiosition  virtually 
includes  all  the  previous  demonstrations  to  which  it  refers. 

Hence  it  appears,  that,  in  mathematical  demonstrations,  we 
have  not,  at  every  step,  the  immediate  evidence  of  intuition,  but 
only  the  evidence  of  memory.  Every  demonstration,  however, 
may  be  resolved  into  a series  of  separate  judgments,  either 
formed  at  the  moment,  or  remembered  as  the  results  of  judg- 
ments formed  at  some  preceding  period  ; and  it  is  in  the  arrange- 
ment and  concatenation  of  these  ditferent  judgments,  or  media 
of  proof,  tliat  the  inventive  and  reasoning  powers  of  the  mathe- 
matician find  so  noble  a field  for  their  exercise. 

With  respect  to  these  powers  of  judgment  and  of  reasoning, 
as  they  are  here  combined,  it  ajipears  to  me,  that  the  results  of 
the  former  may  be  compared  to  a collection  of  separate  stones 
prepared  by  the  chisel  for  the  purposes  of  the  builder ; upon 
each  of  which  stones,  while  lying  on  the  ground,  a person  may 
raise  himself,  as  upon  a pedestal,  to  a small  elevation.  The 
same  judgments,  when  combined  into  a train  of  reasoning,  ter- 
minating in  a remote  conclusion,  resemble  the  formerly  uncon- 
nected blocks,  when  converted  into  the  steps  of  a staircase 
leading  to  the  summit  of  a tower,  which  would  be  otherwise 
inaccessible.  In  the  design  and  execution  of  this  staircase, 
much  skill  and  invention  may  be  displayed  by  the  architect ; 
but,  in  order  to  ascend  it,  nothing  more  is  necessary  than  a 
repetition  of  the  act  by  which  the  first  step  was  gained.  The 
fact  I conceive  to  be  somewhat  analogous,  in  the  relation  between 
the  power  of  judgment,  and  what  logicians  call  the  discursive 
processes  of  the  understanding. 

Reasoning  is  a succession  of  intuitive  judgments.  — Mr. 


408 


RI'.ASOMXCr  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


Locke’s  language,  in  various  parts  of  his  Essay,  seems  to  accord 
M'ith  the  same  opinion.  “ Every  step  in  I’easoning,”  he  observes, 
“ that  produces  knowledge,  has  intuitive  certainty ; which,  when 
the  mind  perceives,  there  is  no  more  required  but  to  remember 
it,  to  make  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas,  concern- 
ing which  \ve  inquire,  visible  and  certain.  This  intuitive  per- 
ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  intermediate 
ideas,  in  each  step  and  progression  of  the  demonstration,  must 
also  be  can-ied  exactly  in  the  mind,  and  a man  must  be  sure  that 
no  part  is  left  out ; wdiich,  in  long  deductions,  and  in  the  use  of 
many  proofs,  the  memory  does  not  always  so  I’eadily  and  exactly 
retain ; therefore  it  comes  to  pass,  that  this  is  more  imperfect 
than  intuitive  knowledge,  and  men  embrace  often  falsehood  for 
demonstrations.” 

The  same  doctrine  is  stated  elsewhere  by  Mr.  Locke,  more 
than  once,  in  tenns  ecpially  explicit;  and  yet  his  language 
occasionally  favors  the  supposition,  that,  in  its  deductive  pro- 
cesses, the  mind  exhibits  some  raoditication  of  reason  essentially 
distinct  from  intuition.  The  account,  too,  which  he  has  given 
of  their  respective  provinces,  affords  evidence  that  his  notions 
concerning  them  were  not  sufficiently  precise  and  settled. 
“ When  the  mind,”  says  he,  “ perceives  the  agreement  or  disa- 
greement of  two  ideas  immediately  by  themselves,  without  the 
intervention  of  any  other,  its  knowledge  may  be  called  intui- 
tive. When  it  cannot  so  bring  its  ideas  together  as,  by  their 
immediate  comparison,  and,  as  it  were,  juxtaposition,  or  a]>pli- 
cation  one  to  another,  to  perceive  their  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment, it  is  fain,  by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas,  (one  or 
more  as  it  happens,)  to  discover  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
which  it  searches ; and  this  is  that  which  \ve  call  reasoning.” 
According  to  these  definitions,  supposing  the  equality  of  two 
lines,  A and  B,  to  be  perceived  immediately,  in  consequence  of 
their  coincidence,  the  judgment  of  the  mind  is  intuitive.  Sup- 
posing A to  coincide  with  B,  and  B with  C ; the  relation  be- 
tween A and  C is  perceived  by  reasoning.  Nor  is  this  a hasty 
inference  from  Locke’s  accidental  language.  That  it  is  per- 
fectly agreeable  to  the  foregoing  definitions,  as  understood  by 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


409 


their  author,  appears  from  the  following  passage,  which  occurs 
afterwards : “ The  principal  act  of  ratiocination  is  the  finding 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas,  one  with  another, 
by  the  intervention  of  a third.  As  a man,  by  a yard,  finds  two 
houses  to  be  of  the  same  length,  which  could  not  be  brought 
together  to  measure  their  equality  by  juxtaposition.” 

This  use  of  the  words  intuition  and  reasoning,  is  surely  some- 
what  arbitrary.  The  truth  of  mathematical  axioms  has  always 
been  supposed  to  be  intuitively  obvious ; and  the  first  of  these, 
according  to  Euclid’s  enumeration,  affirms,  that  if  A be  equal  to 
B,  and  B to  C,  A 'and  C are  equal.  Admitting,  however, 
Locke’s  definition  to  be  just,  it  only  tends  to  confirm  what  has 
been  already  stated  with  respect  to  the  near  affinity,  or  rather 
the  radical  identity,  of  intuition  and  of  reasoning.  When  the 
relation  of  equality  between  A and  B has  once  been  perceived, 
A and  B are  completely  identified  as  the  same  mathematical 
quantity ; and  the  two  letters  may  be  regarded  as  synonymous, 
wherever  they  occur.  The  faculty,  therefore,  which  perceives 
the  relation  between  A and  C,  is  the  same  with  the  faculty 
which  perceives  the  relation  between  A and  B,  and  between 
B and  C.* 


* [Stewart’s  doctrine,  that  reasoning  is  nothing  more  than  a series  of  intu- 
itive judgments,  seems  to  be  true  according  to  one  signification  of  the  word 
reasoning,  and  false  according  to  another.  The  word  reasoning  is  sometimes 
used  to  denote  a series  of  propositions,  or  syllogisms,  properly  arranged, 
which  constitute  the  proof  of  a particular  doctrine ; but  it  more  frequently 
denotes,  that  act  or  process  of  the  mind,  by  which  the  proper  syllo- 
gisms, or  intermediate  propositions,  are  discovered  and  rightly  put  to- 
gether, so  as  to  constitute  such  a proof.  This  effort  of  mind  may  be  a 
very  laborious  and  difficult  one,  and  would  be  improperly  designated  by 
such  a word  as  intuition,  which  implies  ease  and  instantaneousness  of 
operation.  Take  the  geometrical  theorem,  that  the  square  described  on 
the  hypothenuse  of  a right-angled  triangle  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the 
squares  on  the  two  other  sides ; it  is  proved  by  a series  of  propositions, 
the  connection  of  each  one  of  which  with  its  predecessor,  is  seen  intui- 
tively. But  if  the  old  story  is  true,  Pythagoras  was  so  oveijoyed  when, 
after  long  study,  he  had  succeeded  in  discovering  these  propositions,  and 
putting  them’  together  so  as  to  constitute  a proof  of  the  theorem,  that  he 
sacrificed  a hecatomb  of  oxen  to  .show  his  gratitude  to  the  gods.] 

35 


410 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


In  furtlier  confirmation  of  the  same  proposition,  an  appeal 
miglit  be  made  to  the  structure  of  syllogisms.  Is  it  possible  to 
conceive  an  luiderstanding  so  formed,  as  to  pei’ceive  the  truth 
of  the  major  and  of  the  minor  propositions,  and  yet  not  to  per- 
ceive the  force  of  the  conclusion  ? The  contrary  must  appear 
evident  to  every  person  who  knows  what  a syllogism  is ; or, 
rather,  as  in  this  mode  of  stating  an  argument,  the  mind  is  led 
from  universals  to  particulars,  it  must  appear  evident,  that,  in 
the  very  statement  of  the  major  proposition,  the  truth  of  the 
conclusion  is  presupposed ; insomuch,  that  it  was  not  without 
good  reason  Dr.  Campbell  hazarded  the  epigrammatic,  yet  un- 
answerable remark,  that  “ there  is  always  some  radical  defect 
in  a syllogism,  which  is  not  chargeable  with  that  species  of 
sophism,  known  among  logicians  by  the  name  of  petilio  prin- 
cipii,  or  a begging  of  the  question.” 

In  what  respect  intuition  differs  from  reasoning.  — The  idea 
which  is  commonly  annexed  to  intuition.,  as  opposed  to  reason- 
ing, turns,  I suspect,  entirely  on  the  circumstance  of  time.  The 
former,  we  conceive  to  be  instantaneous ; whereas  the  latter 
necessarily  involves  the  notion  of  succession,  or  of  progress. 
This  distinction  is  sufficiently  precise  for  the  ordinary  purposes 
of  discourse ; nay,  it  supplies  us,  on  many  occasions,  with  a 
convenient  phraseology ; but  in  the  theory  off  the  mind,  it  has 
led  to  some  mistaken  conclusions,  on  which  I intend  to  oflPer  a 
few  remarks  in  the  second  part  of  this  section. 

2.  Conclusions  obtained  by  a process  of  deduction  often  mis- 
taken for  intuitive  judgments.  — It  has  been  frequently  re- 
marked, that  the  jnstest  and  most  efficient  understandings  ai-e 
often  possessed  by  men  who  are  incapable  of  stating  to  others, 
or  even  to  themselves,  the  grounds  on  which  they  proceed  in 
forming  their  decisions.  In  some  instances,  I have  been  dis- 
posed to  ascribe  this  to  the  faults  of  early  education ; but  in 
other  cases,  I am  persuaded  that  it  was  the  effect  of  active  and 
imperious  habits  in  quickening  the  evanescent  processes  of 
thought,  so  as  to  render  them  untraceable  by  the  memory ; and 
to  give  the  appearance  of  intuition  to  wliat  was,  in  fact,  the  re- 
sult of  a train  of  reasoning  so  r.apid  as  to  escape  notice.  This 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIYE  EVIDENCE. 


411 


I conceive  to  be  the  true  theory  of  what  is  generally  called 
common  sense,  in  opposition  to  book  learning  ; and  it  serves  to 
account  for  the  use  which  has  been  made  of  this  phrase,  by 
various  writers,  as  synonymous  with  intuition. 

Instantaneous  judgments  more  trustworthy  than  deliberately 
formed  conclusions.  — These  seemingly  instantaneous  judg- 
ments have  always  appeared  to  me  as  entitled  to  a greater 
share  of  our  confidence,  than  many  of  our  more  deliberate  con- 
clusions ; inasmuch  as  they  have  been  forced,  as  it  were,  on  the 
mind  by  the  lessons  of  long  experience ; and  are  as  little  liable 
to  be  biased  by  temper  or  passion,  as  the  estimates  we  form  of 
the  distances  of  visible  objects.  They  constitute,  indeed,  to 
those  who  are  habitually  engaged  in  the  busy  scenes  of  life,  a 
sort  of  peculiar  faculty,  analogous,  both  in  its  origin  and  in  its 
use,  to  the  coup  d’  ceil  of  the  military  engineer,  or  to  the  quick 
and  sure  tact  of  the  medical  practitioner,  in  marking  the  diag- 
nostics of  disease. 

For  this  reason,  I look  upon  the  distinction  between  our  intu- 
itive and  deductive  judgments  as,  in  many  cases,  merely  an 
object  of  theoretical  curiosity.  In  those  simple  conclusions 
which  all  men  are  impelled  to  form,  by  the  necessities  of  their 
nature,  and  in  which  we  find  an  uniformity  not  less  constant 
than  in  the  acquired  perceptions  of  sight,  it  is  of  as  little  conse- 
quence to  the  logician  to  spend  his  time  in  effbi'ts  to  retrace  the 
first  steps  of  the  infant  understanding,  as  it  would  be  to  the 
sailor  or  the  sportsman  to  study,  with  a view  to  the  impi’ove- 
ment  of  his  eye,  the  Berkeleian  theory  of  vision.  In  both 
instances,  the  original  faculty  and  the  acquired  judgment  are 
equally  entitled  to  be  considered  as  the  work  of  nature ; and  in 
both  instances,  we  find  it  equally  impossible  to  shake  off  her 
authority.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that,  in  popular  language, 
such  words  as  common  sense  and  reason  should  be  used  with  a 
considerable  degree  of  latitude ; nor  is  it  of  much  importance 
to  the  philosopher  to  aim  at  extreme  nicety  in  defining  their 
province,  where  all  mankind,  whether  wise  or  ignorant,  think 
and  speak  alike. 

In  some  rare  and  anomalous  cases,  a rapidity  of  judgment  in 


412 


KEASONING  AND  DEDUCTIYE  EVIDENCE. 


the  more  complicated  concerns  of  life,  appears  in  individuals 
who  have  had  so  few  opportunities  of  profiting  by  experience, 
that  it  seems,  on  a superficial  view,  to  be  the  immediate  gift  of 
heaven.  But,  in  all  such  instances,  (although  a great  deal  must 
undoubtedly  be  ascribed  to  an  inexplicable  aptitude  or  predis- 
position of  the  intellectual  powers,)  we  may  be  perfectly 
assured,  that  every  judgment  of  the  understanding  is  preceded 
by  a process  of  reasoning  or  deduction,  whether  the  individual 
himself  be  able  to  recollect  it  or  not.  Of  this  I can  no  more 
doubt,  than  I could  bring  myself  to  believe  that  the  arithmeti- 
cal prodigy  who  has,  of  late,  so  justly  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  curious,  is  able  to  extract  square  and  cube  roots  by  an 
instinctive  and  instantaneous  perception,  because  the  process 
of  mental  calculation,  by  which  he  is  led  to  the  result,  eludes 
all  his  efforts  to  recover  it. 

We  may  often  judge  rightly,  while  we  reason  ill.  — It  is 
remarked  by  Mr.  Hume,  with  respect  to  the  elocution  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  that  “ it  was  always  confused,  embarrassed, 
and  unintelligible.”  “ The  great  defect,  however,”  he  adds,  “ in 
Oliver’s  speeches  consisted,  not  in  his  want  of  elocution,  but  in 
his  want  of  ideas  ; the  sagacity  of  his  actions,  and  the  absui’dity 
of  his  discourse,  forming  the  most  prodigious  contrast  that  ever 
was  known.”  “ In  the  great  variety  of  human  geniuses,”  says 
the  same  historian,  upon  a different  occasion,  “ there  are  some 
which,  though  they  see  their  object  clearly  and  distinctly  in 
general,  yet  when  they  come  to  unfold  its  parts  by  discourse 
or  writing,  lose  that  luminous  conception  which  they  have  before 
attained.  All  accounts  agree  in  ascribing  to  Cromwell  a tire- 
some, dark,  unintelligible  elocution,  even  when  he  had  no  inten- 
tion to  disguise  his  meaning ; yet  no  man’s  actions  were  ever,  in 
such  a variety  of  difficult  incidents,  more  decisive  and  judicious.” 
The  case  here  described  may  be  considered  as  an  extreme 
one ; but  every  person  of  common  observation  must  recollect 
facts  somewhat  analogous,  which  have  fallen  under  his  own 
notice.  Indeed,  it  is  no  more  than  we  should  expect,  a priori, 
to  meet  with,  in  every  individual  whose  early  habits  have  trained 
him  more  to  the  active  business  of  the  world,  than  to  those  pur- 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


413 


suits  wliicli  prepare  tlie  mind  for  communicating  to  others  its 
ideas  and  feelings  with  clearness  and  effect. 

An  anecdote  which  I heard  many  years  ago,  of  a late  very 
eminent  Judge,  (Lord  Mansfield,)  has  often  recurred  to  my 
memory,  while  reflecting  on  these  apparent  inconsistencies  of 
intellectual  character.  A friend  of  his,  who  possessed  excellent 
natural  talents,  but  who  had  been  prevented,  by  his  professional 
duties  as  a naval  officer,  from  bestowing  on  them  all  the  cultiva- 
tion of  which  they  were  susceptible,  having  been  recently  ap- 
pointed to  the  government  of  Jamaica,  happened  to  express 
some  doubts  of  his  competency  to  preside  in  the  Court  of 
Chancery.  Lord  Mansfield  assured  him  that  he  ivould  find  the 
difficulty  not  so  great  as  he  apprehended.  “ Trust,”  he  said, 
“ to  your  own  good  sense  in  forming  your  opinions  ; but  beware 
of  attempting  to  state  the  grounds  of  your  judgments.  The 
judgment  will  probably  be  right  — the  argument  will  infallibly 
be  wrong.” 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  seems  to  follow,  that  although  a 
man  should  happen  to  reason  ill  in  support  of  a sound  conclu- 
sion, we  are  by  no  means  entitled  to  infer  with  confidence,  that 
he  judged  right  merely  by  accident.  It  is  far  from  being  im- 
possible, that  he  may  have  committed  some  mistake  in  stating  to 
others  (perhaps  in  retracing  to  himself)  the  grounds  upon  which 
his  judgment  was  really  founded.  Indeed,  this  must  be  the 
case,  wherever  a shrewd  understanding  in  business  is  united 
with  an  incapacity  for  clear  and  luminous  reasonings  ; and  some- 
thing of  the  same  sort  is  incident,  more  or  less,  to  all  men  (more 
particularly  to  men  of  quick  parts)  when  they  make  an  attempt, 
in  discussions  concerning  human  affairs,  to  remount  to  first  prin- 
ciples. It  may  be  added,  that  in  the  old,  this  correctness  of 
judgment  often  remains,  in  a surprising  degree,  long  after  the 
discursive  or  argumentative  power  would  seem,  from  some  decay 
of  attention,  or  confusion  in  the  succession  of  ideas,  to  have 
been  sensibly  impaired  by  age  or  by  disease. 

II.  Of  GENERAL  REASONING.  Of  language  Considered  US  an 
instrument  of  thought.  — In  treating  of  ahstraciion,  I endeav- 

35  * 


414 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


ored  to  show  that  we  tliink,  as  well  as  speak,  by  means 
of  words,  and  that,  without  the  use  of  language,  our  reasoning 
faculty,  if  it  could  have  been  at  all  exercised,  must  necessarily 
have  been  limited  to  particular  conclusions  alone.  The  effects, 
therefore,  of  ambiguous  and  indefinite  terms  are  not  confined  to 
our  communications  with  others,  but  extend  to  our  private  and 
solitary  speculations.  Dr.  Campbell,  in  his  Philosophy  of  Rhet- 
oric, has  made  some  judicious  and  important  observations  on 
this  subject ; and,  at  a much  earlier  period,  it  drew  the  attention 
of  Des  Cartes ; who,  in  the  course  of  a very  valuable  discus- 
sion with  respect  to  the  sources  of  our  errors,  has  laid  particular 
stress  on  those  to  which  we  are  exposed  from  the  employment 
of  language  as  an  instrument  of  thought.  “ And,  lastly,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  habitual  use  of  speech,  aU  our  ideas  become 
associated  with  the  words  in  which  we  express  them ; nor  do  we 
ever  commit  these  ideas  to  memory,  without  their  accustomed 
signs.  Hence  it  is,  that  there  is  hardly  any  one  subject,  of 
which  we  have  so  distinct  a notion  as  to  be  able  to  think  of  it 
abstracted  from  all  use  of  language ; and,  indeed,  as  we  remem- 
ber iL'ords  more  easily  than  things,  our  thoughts  are  much  more 
conversant  with  the  former  than  with  the  latter.  Hence,  too,  it 
is,  that  we  often  yield  our  assent  to  propositions,  the  meaning 
of  which  w'e  do  not  understand ; imagining  that  we  have  either 
examined  formerly  the  import  of  all  the  terms  involved  in  them, 
or  that  we  have  adopted  these  terms  on  the  authority  of  others 
upon  whose  judgment  we  can  rely.” 

To  these  important  considerations,  it  may  be  worth  while  to 
add,  that  whatever  improvements  may  yet  be  made  in  language 
by  philosophers,  they  can  never  relieve  the  student  from  the 
indispensable  task  of  analyzing  with  accuracy  the  complex  ideas 
he  annexes  to  the  terms  employed  in  his  reasonings.  The  use 
of  general  terms,  as  Locke  has  remarked,  is  learned,  in  many 
cases,  before  it  is  possible  for  us  to  comprehend  their  meaning; 
and  the  greater  part  of  mankind  continue  to  use  them  through 
life,  without  ever  being  at  the  trouble  to  examine  accurately 
the  notions  they  convey.  This  is  a study  wliich  every  individual 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


415 


must  carry  on  for  liimself ; and  of  wliicli  no  rules  of  logic  (how 
useful  soever  they  may  be  in  directing  our  labors)  can  super- 
sede the  necessity. 

Necessity  of  a cautious  use  of  words.  — Of  the  essential 
utility  of  a cautious  employment  of  words,  both  as  a medium 
of  communication,  and  as  an  instrument  of  thought,  many  strik- 
ing illustrations  might  be  produced  from  the  history  of  science 
during  the  time  that  the  scholastic  jargon  was  current  among 
the  learned ; a technical  phraseology,  which  was  not  only  ill- 
calculated  for  the  discovery  of  truth,  but  which  was  dexter- 
ously contrived  for  the  pro})agation  of  error ; and  which  gave 
to  those  who  were  habituated  to  the  use  of  it,  gi’eat  advantages 
in  controversy,  at  least  in  the  judgment  of  the  multitude,  over 
their  more  enlightened  and  candid  opponents.  “A  blind  wres- 
tler, by  fighting  in  a dark  chamber,”  to  adopt  an  allusion  of  Des 
Cartes,  “ may  not  only  conceal  his  defect,  but  may  enjoy  some 
ad\  antages  over  those  who  see.  It  is  the  light  of  day  only 
that  can  discover  his  inferiority.”  The  imperfections  of  this 
philosophy,  accordingly,  have  been  exposed  by  Des  Cartes  and 
his  followers,  less  by  the  force  of  tlieir  reasonings,  than  by  their 
teaching  men  to  make  use  of  their  own  faculties,  instead  of 
groping  in  the  artificial  darkness  of  the  schools ; and  to  perceive 
the  folly  of  expecting  to  advance  science,  by  ringing  changes  on 
words  to  which  they  annexed  no  clear  or  precise  ideas. 

In  consequence  of  the  influence  of  these  views,  the  attention 
of  our  soundest  philosophers  was  more  and  more  turned,  dur- 
ing the  course  of  the  last  century,  to  the  cultivation  of  that 
branch  of  logic  which  relates  to  the  use  of  words.  Mr.  Locke’s 
observations  on  this  subject  form,  perhaps,  the  most  valuable 
part  of  his  writings ; and,  since  Ins  time,  much  additional  light 
has  been  thrown  upon  it  by  Condillac  and  his  successors. 

The  art  of  reasoning  requires  something  besides  a language 
well  contrived.  — Important,  however,  as  this  branch  of  logic  is 
in  its  practical  applications ; and  highly  interesting,  from  its 
intimate  connection  with  the  theory  of  the  human  mind,  there 
is  a possibility  of  pushing  to  an  erroneous  and  dangerous  ex- 
treme the  conclusions  to  which  it  has  led.  Condillac  himself 


41G 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


falls,  in  no  inconsiderable  a degree,  under  this  censure  ; having, 
upon  more  than  one  occasion,  expressed  himself  as  if  he  con- 
ceived it  to  be  possible,  by  means  of  precise  and  definite  terms, 
to  reduce  reasoning  in  all  the  sciences  to  a sort  of  mechanical 
operation,  analogous  in  its  nature  to  those  which  are  practised 
by  the  algebraist  on  letters  of  the  alphabet.  “ The  art  of 
reasoning  (he  repeats  over  and  over)  is  nothing  more  than  a 
language  well  arranged.” 

One  of  the  first  persons,  as  far  as  I know,  who  objected  to 
the  vagueness  and  incorrectness  of  this  proposition,  was  M.  De 
Gerando ; to  whom  we  are  further  indebted  for  a clear  and  sat- 
isfactory exposition  of  the  very  important  fact  to  which  it 
relates. 

“ It  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  a lively  and  vigor- 
ous conception,”  he  remarks,  “ to  push  its  speculative  conclu- 
sions somewhat  beyond  their  just  limits.  Hence,  in  the  logical 
discussions  of  this  estimable  writer,  these  maxims,  (stated  with- 
out any  explanation  or  restriction,)  ‘ That  the  study  of  a science 
is  nothing  more  than  the  acquisition  of  a language ; ’ and,  ‘ that 
a science  properly  treated,  is  only  a language  well  contrived.’ 
Hence  the  rash  assertion,  ‘ That  mathematics  possess  no  advan- 
tage over  other  sciences,  but  what  they  derive  from  a better 
phraseology ; and  that  all  of  these  might  attain  to  the  same 
characters  of  simplicity  and  of  certainty,  if  we  knew  how  to 
give  them  signs  equally  peiTect.’  ” 

“ The  same  task  which  must  have  been  executed  by  those 
who  contributed  to  the  first  formation  of  a language,  and  which 
is  executed  by  every  child  when  he  learns  to  speak  it,  is  re- 
peated over  in  the  mind  of  every  adult,  when  he  makes  use  of 
his  mother  tongue ; for  it  is  only  by  the  decomposition  of  his 
thoughts,  that  he  can  learn  to  select  the  signs  which  he  ought 
to  employ,  and  to  dispose  them  in  a suitable  order.  Accord- 
ingly, those  external  actions  which  we  call  speaking  or  writing, 
are  always  accompanied  with  a philosophical  process  of  the  un- 
derstanding, unless  we  content  ourselves,  as  too  often  happens, 
with  repeating  over  mechanically  what  has  been  said  by  others. 
It  is  in  this  respect  that  languages,  with  their  forms  and  rules, 


EEASOIfING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


417 


conducting  (so  to  speak)  those  who  use  them  into  the  path  of  a 
regular  analysis ; tracing  out  to  them,  in  a well-ordered  dis- 
course, the  model  of  a perfect  decomposition,  may  be  regarded 
in  a certain  sense  as  analytical  methods.  But  I stop  short : 
Condillac,  to  whom  this  idea  belongs,  has  developed  it  too  well 
to  leave  any  hope  of  improving  upon  his  statement.” 

In  a note  upon  this  passage,  however,  M.  De  Gerando  has 
certainly  improved  not  a little  on  the  statement  of  Condillac. 
“ In  asserting,”  says  he,  “ that  languages  may  be  regarded  as 
analytical  methods,  I have  added  the 'qualifying  phrase,  in  a 
certain  sense,  for  the  word  method  cannot  be  employed  here  with 
exact  propriety.  Languages  furnish  the  occasions  and  the 
means  of  analysis  ; that  is  to  say,  they  afford  us  assistance  in 
following  that  method  ; hut  they  are  not  the  method  itself  They 
resemble  signals  or  tinger-jiosts  placed  on  a road,  to  enable  us 
to  discover  our  way ; and  if  they  help  us  to  analyze,  it  is  be- 
cause they  are  thems.elves  the  results,  and,  as  it  were,  the  mon- 
uments, of  an  analysis  which  has  been  previously  made ; nor  do 
they  contribute  to  keep  us  in  the  right  path,  but  in  proportion 
to  the  degree  of  judgment  with  which  that  analysis  has  been 
conducted.” 

Visionary  theories  of  some  logicians,  occasioned  hy  their  inat- 
tention to  the  essential  distinction  between  mathematics  and  other 
sciences.  — In  a passage  already  quoted  from  De  Gerando,  he 
takes  notice  of  what  he  justly  calls  a rash  assertion  of  Condillac, 
“ That  mathematics  possess  no  advantage  over  other  sciences, 
but  what  they  derive  from  a better  phraseology;  and  that  all 
of  these  might  attain  to  the  same  characters  of  simplicity  and  of 
certainty,  if  we  knew  how  to  give  them  signs  equally  perfect.” 
Leibnitz  seems  to  point  at  an  idea  of  the  same  sort,  in  those 
obscure  and  enigmatical  hints  (not  altogether  worthy,  in  my 
opinion,  of  his  powerful  and  comprehensive  genius)  which  he 
has  thrown  out,  about  the  miracles  to  be  effected  by  a new  art 
of  his  own  invention  ; to  which  art  he  sometimes  gives  the  name 
of  Ars  Comhinatoria  Oharacteristica,  and  sometimes  of  Ars 
Oomhinatoria  Generalis  ac  Vera.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Mr. 
Oldenburgh,  he  speaks  of  a plan  he  had  long  been  meditating, 


418 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


of  traitin'g  of  the  science  of  mind  by  means  of  mathematical 
demonstrations.  “ Many  wonderful  things,”  he  adds,  “ of  this 
kind  have  occurred  to  me;  which,  at  some  future  period,  I shall 
explain  to  the  public  with  that  logical  precision  which  the  sub- 
ject requires.”  In  the  same  letter,  he  intimates  his  belief  in 
the  possibility  of  inventing  an  art,  “ which,  with  an  exactitude 
resembling  that  of  mechanism,  may  render  the  operations  of 
reason  steady  and  visible,  and,  in  their  effects  on  the  minds  of 
others,  irresistible.”  After  which  he  pi’oceeds  thus:  — 

“ Our  common  algebra,  which  we  justly  value  so  highly,  is  no 
mors  than  a branch  of  that  general  art  which  I have  here  in 
view.  But  such  as  it  is,  it  puts  it  out  of  our  power  to  commit 
an  error,  even  although  we  should  wish  to  do  so ; while  it  ex- 
hibits truth  to  our  eyes  like  a picture  stamped  on  paper  by 
means  of  a machine.  It  must  at  the  same  time  be  recollected, 
that  algebi’a  is  indebted  for  whatever  it  accomplishes  in  the 
demonstration  of  general  theorems  to  the  suggestions  of  a higher 
science ; a science  which  I have  been  accustomed  to  call  charac- 
teristical  combination ; very  different,  however,  in  its  nature, 
from  that  which  these  words  are  likely  at  first  to  suggest  to  the 
hearer.  The  marvellous  utility  of  this  art  I hope  to  illustrate, 
both  by  precepts  and  examples,  if  I shall  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
enjoy  health  and  leisure. 

“ It  is  impossible  for  me  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  it  in 
a short  description.  But  this  I may  venture  to  assert,  that  no 
instrument  (or  organ)  could  easily  be  imagined  of  more  power- 
ful efficacy  for  promoting  the  improvement  of  the  human  under- 
standing ; and  that,  supposing  it  to  be  adopted,  as  the  common 
method  of  philosophizing,  the  time  would  very  soon  arrive, 
when  we  should  be  able  to  form  conclusions  concerning  God  and 
the  mind,  with  not  less  certainty  than  we  do  at  present  concei’ii- 
mg  figures  and  numbers.” 

How  the  •phraseology  of  mathematics  differs  from  that  of  the 
other  sciences. — In  these  extracts  from  Leibnitz,  as  well  as  in 
that  quoted  from  Condillac,  in  the  beginning  of  this  article,  the 
essential  distinction  between  mathematics  and  the  other  sciences, 
in  point  of  phraseology,  is  entirely  overlooked.  In  the  former 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


419 


science,  where  the  use  of  an  ambiguous  word  is  impossible,  it  may 
he  easily  conceived  how  the  solution  of  a problem  may  be 
reduced  to  something  resembling  the  operation  of  a mill  — the 
conditions  of  the  problem,  when  once  translated  from  the  com- 
mon language  into  that  of  algebra,  disappearing  entirely  from 
the  view ; and  the  subsequent  process  being  almost  mechanically 
regulated  by  general  rules,  till  the  final  result  is  obtained.  In 
the  latter,  the  whole  of  the  words  about  which  our  reasonings 
are  conversant,  admit,  more  or  less,  of  different  shades  of  mean- 
ing ; and  it  is  only  by  considering  attentively  the  relation  in 
M'hich  they  stand  to  the  immediate  context,  that  the  precise  idea 
of  the  author  in  any  particular  instance  is  to  be  ascertained. 
In  these  sciences,  accordingly,  the  constant  and  unremitting  exer- 
cise of  the  attention  is  indispensably  necessary,  to  prevent  us,  at 
every  step  of  our  progress,  from  going  astray.  In  following 
any  train  of  reasoning,  beyond  the  circle  of  the  mathematical 
sciences,  the  mind  must  necessarily  carry  on,  along  with  the 
logical  deduction  expressed  in  words,  another  logical  process  of 
a far  nicer  and  more  difficult  nature; — that  of  fxing,  v>i\.\\  a 
rapidity  which  escapes  our  memory,  the  precise  sense  of  every 
word  which  is  ambiguous,  by  the  relation  in  which  it  stands  to 
the  general  scope  of  the  argument.  In  proportion  as  the  lan- 
guage of  science  becomes  more  and  more  exact,  the  difficulty 
of  this  task  will  be  gradually  diminished ; but  let  the  improve- 
ment be  carried  to  any  conceivable  extent,  not  one  step  will  have 
been  gained  in  accelerating  that  era,  so  sanguinely  anticipated 
by  Leibnitz  and  Condillac,  when  our  reasonings  in  morals  and 
politics  shall  resemble,  in  their  mechanical  regularity,  and  in 
their  demonstrative  certainty,  the  investigations  of  algebra.  The 
improvements  which  language  receives,  in  consequence  of  the 
progress  of  knowledge,  consisting  rather  in  a more  precise  dis- 
tinction and  classification  of  the  various  meanings  of  words, 
than  in  a reduction  of  these  meanings  in  point  of  number,  the 
task  of  mental  induction  and  interpretation  may  be  rendered 
more  easy  and  unerring  ; but  the  necessity  of  this  task  can  never 
be  superseded,  till  every  word  which  we  employ  shall  be  as 


420 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


fixed  and  invariable  in  its  signification  as  an  algebraical  char- 
acter or  as  the  name  of  a geometrical  figure. 

Successful  study  of  the  moral  sciences  depends  on  the  right  in- 
terpretation of  words.  — In  the  mean  time,  the  intellectual 
sujieriority  of  one  man  above  another,  in  all  the  different 
branches  of  moral  and  political  philosophy,  will  be  found  to 
depend  chiefly  on  the  success  with  which  he  has  cultivated  these 
silent  habits  of  inductive  interpretation  — much  more,  in  my 
opinion,  than  on  his  acquaintance  with  those  rules  which  form 
the  great  objects  of  study  to  the  professed  logician.  In  proof 
of  this,  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to  remind  my  readers,  that  the 
whole  theory  of  syllogism  proceeds  on  the  supposition  that  the 
same  word  is  always  to  he  employed  precisely  in  the  same  sense, 
(for  otherwise,  the  syllogism  would  be  vitiated  by  consisting  of 
more  than  three  terms)  ; and,  consequently,  it  takes  for  granted, 
in  every  rule  which  it  furnishes  for  the  guidance  of  our  reason- 
ing powers,  that  the  nicest  and  by  far  the  most  difficult  part  of 
the  logical  process  has  been  pi’cviously  brought  to  a successful 
termination. 

In  treating  of  a different  question,  I have  elsewhere  remarked, 
that  although  many  authors  have  spoken  of  the  wonderful 
mechanism  of  speech,  no  one  has  hitherto  attended  to  the  far 
more  wonderful  meclianism  which  it  puts  into  action  behind  the 
scene.  A similar  observation  will  be  found  to  apply  to  what  is 
commonly  called  the  art  of  reasoning.  The  scholastic  precepts 
which  profess  to  teach  it,  reach  no  deeper  than  the  very  surface 
of  the  subject ; being  all  of  them  confined  to  that  part  of  the'in- 
tellectual  process  which  is  embodied  in  the  form  of  verbal  jirop- 
ositions.  On  the  most  favorable  supposition  which  can  be 
formed  with  respect  to  them,  they  are  superfluous  and  nugatory  ; 
but  in  many  cases,  it  is  to  be  apprehended,  that  they  interfere 
with  the  right  conduct  of  the  understanding,  by  withdrawing  the 
attention  from  the  cultivation  of  that  mental  logic  on  which  the 
soundness  of  our  conclusions  essentially  depends,  and  in  the 
study  of  which,  although  some  general  rules  may  be  of  use, 
every  man  must  be,  in  a great  measure,  his  own  master. 


EEASONIXG-  AXD  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


421 


Why  general  speculation  seems  intricccte.  — In  the  practical 
application  of  the  foregoing  conclusions,  it  cannot  fail  to  occur, 
as  a considei-ation  equally  obvious  and  important,  that,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  objects  of  our  reasoning  are  removed  from  the 
particular  details  with  which  our  senses  are  conversant,  the 
diihculty  of  these  latent  inductive  processes  must  be  increased. 
This  is  the  real  source  of  that  incapacity  for  general  specula- 
tion, which  Mr.  Hume  has  so  well  described  as  a distinguishing 
charactei'istic  of  uncultivated  minds.  “ General  reasonings 
seem  intricate,  merely  because  they  are  general ; nor  is  it  easy 
for  the  bulk  of  mankind  to  distinguish,  in  a great  number  of 
particulars,  that  common  circumstance  in  which  they  all  agree, 
or  to  extract  it,  pure  and  unmixed,  from  the  other  superfluous 
circumstances.  Every  judgment  or  conclusion  with  them  is 
particular.  They  cannot  enlarge  their  vdews  to  those  universal 
propositions,  which  comprehend  under  them  an  infinite  number 
of  individuals,  and  include  a whole  science  in  a single  theorem. 
Their  eye  is  confounded  with  such  an  extensive  prospect,  and 
the  conclusions  deduced  from  it,  even  though  clearly  expressed, 
seem  intricate  and  obscure.” 

Difficult,  however,  and  even  impossible,  as  the  task  of  general 
speculation  is  to  the  bulk  of  mankind,  it  is  nevertheless  true, 
that  it  is  the  path  which  leads  the  cautious  and  skilful  reasoncr 
to  all  his  most  certain,  as  well  as  most  valuable,  conclusions  in 
morals  and  in  politics.  If  a theorist,  indeed,  sliould  expect, 
that  these  conclusions  are  in  every  particular  instance  to  be 
realized,  he  would  totally  misapprehend  their  nature  and  appli- 
cation ; inasmuch  as  they  are  only  to  be  brought  to  an  experi- 
mental test,  by  viewing  them  on  an  extensive  scale,  and  con- 
tinuing our  observations  during  a long  period  of  time.  “ When 
a man  deliberates,”  says  Mr.  Hume,  “ concerning  his  conduct  in 
any  particular  affair,  and  forms  schemes  in  politics,  trade, 
economy,  or  any  business  in  life,  he  never  ought  to  draw  his 
arguments  too  fine,  or  connect  too  long  a chain  of  consequences 
together.  Something  is  sure  to  happen  that  will  disconcert  his 
reasoning,  and  produce  an  event  different  from  what  he  ex- 
pected. But  w'hen  we  reason  upon  general  subjects,  one  may 

36 


422 


REASONING  AND  DEDECTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


justly  affirm,  that  our  speculations  can  scarcely  ever  be  too 
tine,  provided  they  be  just ; and  that  the  difference  between  a 
common  man  and  a man  of  genius,  is  chiefly  seen  in  the  shal- 
lowness or  depth  of  the  principles  on  which  they  proceed.” 
The  same  author  afterwards  excellently  observes,  “ That  gen- 
eral principles,  however  intricate  they  may  seem,  must  always 
prevail,  if  they  be  just  and  sound,  in  the  general  course  of 
things,  though  they  may  fail  in  pai-ticular  cases ; and  that  it  is 
the  chief  business  of  philosophers  to  regard  the  general  course 
of  things.”  — “I  may  add,”  continues  Mr.  Hume,  “ that  it  is  also 
the  chief  business  of  politicians,  especially  in  the  domestic 
government  of  the  state,  where  the  public  good,  which  is,  or 
ought  to  be,  their  object,  depends  on  the  concurrence  of  a multi- 
tude of  causes ; not,  as  in  foreign  politics,  on  accidents  and 
chances,  and  the  caprices  of  a few  persons.” 

Why  general  rules  sometimes  mislead  us.  — To  these  profound 
reflections  of  Mr.  Hume,  it  may  he  added,  although  the  remark 
does  not  bear  directly  on  our  present  argument,  that,  in  the 
systematical  application  of  general  and  refined  rules  to  their 
private  concerns,  men  frequently  err  from  calculating  their 
measures  on  a scale  disproportionate  to  the  ordinary  duration  of 
human  life.  This  is  one  of  the  many  mistakes  into  which  pro- 
jectors are  apt  to  fall : and  hence  the  ruin  which  so  often  over- 
takes them,  while  sowing  the  seeds  of  a harvest  which  others 
are  to  reap.  A few  years  more  might  have  secured  to  them- 
selves the  prize  which  they  had  in  view ; and  changed  tiie 
opinion  of  the  world,  (which  is  always  regulated  by  the  acci- 
dental circumstances  of  failure  or  of  success,)  from  contempt 
of  their  folly,  into  admiration  of  their  sagacity  and  persever- 
ance. 

It  is  observed  by  the  Comte  de  Bussi,  that  “ time  remedies 
all  mischances  ; and  that  men  die  unfortunate,  only  because  they 
did  not  live  long  enough.  Mareschal  d’Estrde,  who  died  rich 
at  a hundred,  would  have  died  a beggar,  had  he  lived  only  to 
eighty.”  The  maxim,  like  most  other  apophthegms,  is  stated  in 
terras  much  too  unqualified ; but  it  may  furnish  matter  for 
many  interesting  reflections,  to  those  who  have  surveyed  with 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


423 


attention  the  characters  which  have  passed  before  them  on  the 
stage  of  life ; or  who  amuse  themselves  with  marking  the  tri- 
fling and  fortuitous  circumstances  bj  which  the  multitude  are 
decided,  in  pronouncing  their  verdicts  of  foresight  or  of  improv- 
idence. 

III.  Of  mathematical  demonstration.  Of  the  circum- 
stance on  which  demonstrative  evidence  essentially  depends.  — ■ 
The  peculiarity  of  that  species  of  evidence  which  is  called  dem- 
onstrative, and  which  so  remarkably  distinguishes  our  mathe- 
matical conclusions  from  those  to  which  we  are  led  in  other 
branches  of  science,  is  a fact  which  must  have  arrested  the 
attention  of  every  person  who  possesses  the  slightest  acquaint- 
ance with  the  elements  of  geometry.  And  yet  I am  doubtful 
if  a satisfactory  account  has  been  hitherto  given  of  the  circum- 
stance from  which  it  arises.  Mr.  Locke  tells  us,  that  “ what 
constitutes  a demonstration  is  intuitive  evidence  at  every  step 
and  I readily  grant,  that  if  in  a single  step  such  evidence  should 
fail,  the  other  parts  of  the  demonstration  would  be  of  no  value. 
It  does  not,  however,  seem  to  me  that  it  is  on  this  consideration, 
that  the  demonstrative  evidence  of  the  conclusion  depends,  — • 
not  even  when  we  add  to  it  another  which  is  much  insisted  on 
by  Dr.  Eeid,  — that,  “ in  demonstrative  evidence,  our  frst  prin- 
ples  must  he  intuitively  certain”  The  inaccuracy  of  this  remark 
I formerly  jiointed  out,  when  treating  of  the  evidence  of  axioms ; 
on  which  occasion  I also  observed,  that  the  first  principles  of 
our  reasonings  in  mathematics  are  not  axioms,  but  definitions. 
It  is  in  this  last  circumstance  (I  mean  the  pecidiarity  of  reason- 
ing from  definitions')  that  the  true  theory  of  mathematical  dem- 
onstration is  to  be  found  ; and  I shall  accordingly  endeavor  to 
explain  it  at  considerable  length,  and  to  state  some  of  the  more 
important  consequences  to  which  it  leads. 

It  was  already  remarked  in  the  eighth  chapter,  that  whereas, 
in  all  other  sciences,  the  propositions  which  we  attempt  to 
establish,  express  facts  real  or  supposed,  — in  mathematics, 
the  propositions  which  we  demonstrate  only  assert  a connection 
between  certain  suppositions  and  certain  consequences.  Our 
reasonings,  therefore,  in  mathematics,  are  directed  to  an  object 


4J4  REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

essentially  different  from  what  we  have  in  view,  in  any  othel 
einplojnnent  of  our  intellectual  faculties;  — not  to  ascertain 
truths  luith  respect  to  actual  existences,  but  to  trace  the  logical 
Jiliation  of  consequences  which  follow  from  an  assumed  hypoth- 
esis. If  from  this  hypothesis  we  reason  with  correctness,  noth- 
ing, it  is  manifest,  can  be  wanting  to  complete  the  evidence  of 
the  result ; as  this  result  only  asserts  a necessary  connection 
between  the  supposition  and  the  conclusion.  In  the  other 
sciences,  admitting  that  every  ambiguity  of  language  were 
removed,  and  that  every  step  of  our  deductions  were  lugorously 
accurate,  our  conclusions  would  still  be  attended  with  more  or 
less  of  uncertainty ; being  ultimately  founded  on  principles 
which  may,  or  may  not,  correspond  exactly  with  the  fact. 

Demonstrative  reasoning  might  he  employed  in  the  moral 
sciences.  — Hence,  it  appears,  that  it  might  be  possible,  by  devis- 
ing a set  of  arbitrary  definitions,  to  form  a science  which, 
although  conversant  about  moral,  political,  or  physical  ideas, 
should  yet  be  as  certain  as  geometry.  It  is  of  no  moment, 
whether  the  definitions  assumed  correspond  with  facts  or  not, 
provided  they  do  not  express  impossibilities,  and  be  not  incon- 
sistent with  each  other.  From  these  princii)les  a series  of  con- 
sequences may  be  deduced,  by  the  most  unexceptionable  reason- 
ing; and  the  results  obtained  will  be  perfectly  analogous  to 
mathematical  propositions.  Tlie  terms  true  and  false  cannot 
be  applied  to  them ; at  least,  in  the  sense  in  which  they  are  ap- 
plicable to  propositions  relative  to  facts.  All  that  can  be  said 
is,  that  they  are,  or  ai’e  not,  connected  with  the  definitions  which 
form  the  principles  of  the  science ; and,  therefore,  if  we  clioose 
to  call  our  conclusions  true  in  the  one  case,  and  false  in  the 
other,  these'epithets  must  be  understood  merely  to  refer  to  their 
connection  with  the  data,  and  not  to  their  correspondence  with 
things  actually  existing,  or  with  events  which  we  expect  to  be 
realized  in  future.  An  example  of  such  a science  as  that  which 
I have  now  been  describing,  occurs  in  what  has  been  called  by 
some  Avriters  theoretical  media, nics ; in  which,  from  arbitrary 
hypotheses  concerning  physical  laws,  the  consequences  are 
traced  which  would  follow,  if  such  was  really  the  order  of 
nature. 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


425 


In  those  branches  of  study  which  are  conversant  about  moral 
and  political  propositions,  the  nearest  approach  which  I can 
imagine  to  a hypothetical  science,  analogous  to  mathematics,  is  to 
be  found  in  a code  of  municipal  jurisprudence  ; or  rather,  might 
be  conceived  fo  exist  in  such  a code,  if  systematically  carried  into 
execution,  agreeably  to  certain  general  or  fundamental  prin- 
ciples. Whether  these  principles  should,  or  should  not,  be 
founded  in  justice  and  expediency,  it  is  evidently  possible,  by 
reasoning  from  them  consequentially,  to  create  an  artificial  or 
conventional  body  of  knowledge^  more  systematical,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  more  complete  in  all  its  parts,  than,  in  the  present 
state  of  our  information,  any  science  can  be  rendered,  which 
ultimately  appeals  to  the  eternal  and  immutable  standards  of 
truth  and  falsehood,  of  right  and  wrong.  This  consideration 
seems  to  me  to  throw  some  light  on  the  following  very  curious 
parallel  which  Leibnitz  has  drawn,  with  w'hat  justness  I pre- 
sume not  to  decide,  between  the  works  of  the  Roman  civilians 
and  those  of  the  Greek  geometers.  F ew  writers  certainly  have 
been  so  fully  qualified  as  he  was,  to  pronounce  on  the  chai’ac- 
teristical  merits  of  both. 

“ I have  often  said,  that,  after  the  writing  of  geometricians, 
there  exists  nothing  which,  in  point  of  force  and  of  subtilty,  can 
be  compared  to  the  works  of  the  Roman  lawyers.  And,  as  it 
would  be  scarcely  possible,  from  mere  intrinsic  evidence,  to 
distinguish  a demonstration  of  Euclid’s  from  one  of  Archim- 
edes or  of  Apollonius,  (the  style  of  all  of  them  appearing  no 
less  unifonn  than  if  reason  hereelf  was  speaking  through  their 
organs,)  so  also  the  Roman  lawyers  all  resemble  each  other 
like  twin-brothers ; insomuch  that,  from  the  style  alone  of  any 
particular  opinion  or  argument,  hardly  any  conjecture  could  be 
formed  with  respect  to  the  author.  Nor  are  the  traces  of  a 
refined  and  deeply  meditated  system  of  natural  jurisprudence 
anywhere  to  be  found  more  visible,  or  in  greater  abundance. 
And,  even  in  those  cases  where  its  principles  are  departed  from, 
either  in  compliance  with  the  language  consecrated  by  technical 
forms,  or  in  consequence  of  new  statutes,  or  of  ancient  tradi- 
tions, the  conclusions  which  the  assumed  hypothesis  renders  it 

36* 


426 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


necessaiy  to  incorporate  with  the  external  dictates  of  right 
reason,  are  deduced  with  the  soundest  logic,  and  with  an  in- 
genuity which  excites  admiration.  Nor  are  these  deviations 
from  the  law  of  nature  so  frequent  as  is  commonly  imagined.” 

I have  quoted  this  passage  merely  as  an  illustration  of  the 
analogy  already  alluded  to,  between  the  systematical  unity  of 
mathematical  science,  and  that  which  is  conceivable  in  a system 
of  municipal  law.  Plow  far  this  unity  is  exemplified  in  the 
Roman  code,  I leave  to  he  determined  by  more  competent 
judges. 

The  evidence  of  the  senses  not  applicable  in  mathematics.  — ■ 
As  something  analogous  to  the  hypothetical  or  conditional  con- 
clusions of  mathematics  may  thus  be  fancied  to  take  place  in 
speculations  concerning  moral  or  political  subjects,  and  actually 
does  take  jdace  in  theoretical  mechanics  ; so,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  a mathematician  should  affirm,  of  a general  property  of  the 
circle,  tliat  it  applies  to  a particular  figure  described  on  paper., 
he  would  at  once  degrade  a geometrical  theorem  to  the  level  of 
a fact  resting  ultimately  on  the  evidence  of  our  imperfect 
senses.  P'he  accuracy  of  his  reasoning  could  never  bestow  on 
his  proposition  that  peculiar  evidence  which  is  properly  called 
mathematical,  as  long  as  the  fact  remained  uncertain,  whether 
all  the  straight  lines  drawn  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference 
of  the  figure  were  mathematically  ec|ual. 

Precision  in  the  use  of  words  is  not  the  sole  characteristic  of 
denionslrative  reasoning.  — These  observations  lead  me  to  remark 
a very  common  misconception  concerning  mathematical  defini- 
tions ; which  are  of  a nature  essentially  different  from  the 
definitions  employed  in  any  of  the  other  sciences.  It  is  usual 
fur  writers  on  logic,  after  taking  notice  of  the  errors  to  which 
we  are  liable  in  consequence  of  the  ambiguity  of  words,  to  ap- 
peal to  the  example  of  mathematicians,  as  a proof  of  the  infinite 
advantage  of  using,  in  our  reasonings,  such  expressions  only  as 
have  been  carefully  defined.  Various  remarks  to  this  purpose 
occur  in  the  writings  both  of  Mr.  Locke  and  of  Dr.  Reid.  But  the 
example  of  mathematicians  is  by  no  means  applicable  to  the 
science  iii  which  these  eminent  philosophers  propose  that  it 


REASONING  AND  DEDDCTITE  EVIDENCE. 


427 


should  he  followed;  and,  indeed,  if  it  were  copied  as  a model 
in  any  other  branch  of  human  knowledge,  it  would  lead  to  errors 
fully  as  dangerous  as  any  which  result  from  the  imperfections 
of  language.  The  real  fact  is,  that  it  has  been  copied  much 
more  than  it  ought  to  have  been,  or  than  would  have  been 
attempted,  if  the  peculiarities  of  mathematical  evidence  had 
been  attentively  considered. 

That  in  mathematics  there  is  no  such  thinsr  as  an  ambiguous 
word,  and  that  it  is  to  the  proper  use  of  definitions  we  are  in- 
debted for  this  advantage,  must  unquestionably  be  granted. 
But  this  is  an  advantage  easily  secured,  in  consequence  of  the 
very  limited  vocabidary  of  mathematicians,  and  the  distinctness 
of  the  ideas  about  which  their  reasonings  are  employed.  The 
difference,  besides,  in  this  respect,  between  mathematics  and  the 
other  sciences,  however  great,  is  yet  only  a difference  in  degree  ; 
and  is  by  no  means  sufficient  to  account  for  the  essential  dis- 
tinction, which  every  person  must  perceive  between  the  irresisti- 
ble cogency  of  a mathematical  demonstration  and  that  of  any 
other  process  of  reasoning. 

Proper  use  of  definitions.  — From  the  foregoing  considera- 
tions it  appears,  that  in  mathematics,  definitions  answer  two 
purposes;  first,  to  prevent  ambiguities  of  language;  and,  sec- 
ondly, to  serve  as  the  principles  of  our  reasoning.  It  appears 
further,  that  it  is  to  the  latter  of  these  circumstances,  (1  mean 
to  the  employment  of  hypotheses  instead  of  facts,  as  the  data  on 
which  we  proceed,)  that  the  peculiar  force  of  demonstrative  evi- 
dence is  to  be  ascribed.*  It  is,  however,  only  in  the  former 


* [Mr.  Stewart  shows  with  satBcient  clearness,  that  the  definitions  are 
the  true  premises  of  mathematical  reasoning,  and.  that  it  is  only  upon  the 
supposition  or  hypothesis  of  these  definitions  being  granted,  that  the 
reasoning  holds  good.  But  he  does  not  show  very  clearly  why  the  em- 
ployment of  definitions  and  hypotheses  should  give  to  a mathematical 
demonstration  the  irresistible  cogency  which  distinguishes  it  from  every 
other  species  of  reasoning.  In  another  work,  the  editor  of  this  volume 
has  endeavored  to  supply  this  defect  by  the  following  considerations. 

Demonstrative  reasoning  is  employed  exclusively  about  the  relations  of 
ideas,  or  abstract  ideas,  and  its  conclusions  are  always  abstract;  the  indue- 


428 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


use  of  definitions,  that  any  parallel  can  be  drawn  between 
mathematics  and  those  branches  of  knowledge  which  relate  to 
facts ; and,  therefore,  it  is  not  a fair  argument  in  proof  of  their 
general  utility,  to  appeal  to  the  unrivalled  certainty  of  mathe- 
matical science,  — a preeminence  which  that  science  derives 
from  a source  altogether  different,  though  comprehended  under 
the  same  name,  and  which  she  will  forever  claim  as  her  own 
exclusive  prerogative. 


tive  sciences  relate  exclusively  to  matters  of  fact.  The  relations  of  ideas,  — 
that  is,  of  abstractions,  or  pure  ideas,  are  made  known  to  us  by  intuition 
or  reflection.  They  are  pure  creations  of  the  intellect ; in  their  uncom- 
pounded or  abstract  character,  they  are  not  derived  from  observation,  and 
arc  therefore  not  perverted  by  that  great  source  of  error,  the  imperfection 
of  the  senses,  or  the  limitations  of  our  power  of  perception.  When  we 
entertain  these  ideas,  or  reason  about  them,  the  mind  is  closed  to  all  out- 
ward impressions,  and  freed  even  from  the  memory  of  their  former  occur- 
rence. The  ideas  that  are  contemplated  then,  are  contemplated  in  their 
entireness ; for,  being  uncompounded,  if  they  arc  apprehended  at  all,  they 
must  be  perfectly  apprehended,  and,  consequently,  the  relations  between 
them  are  discerned  at  once,  or  bj'  intuition.  The  office  of  the  definition 
is  to  shut  out  the  consideration  of  those  qualities  which  are  not  included 
in  the  definition,  because  they  are  imperfectly  known.  Our  attention 
being  thus  confined  to  what  we  know  perfectly,  the  reasoning  proceeds 
without  any  possibility  of  error.  All  the  conclusions  of  pure  mathemat- 
ics, pure  logic,  and  pure  reason,  are  metaphysical  truths,  and  we  can  no 
more  doubt  them  than  we  can  question  the  accuracy  of  the  multiplication 
table. 

When  we  come  to  investigate  matters  of  fact,  or  to  reason  about  them, 
wc  enter  upon  totally  different  ground.  Instead  of  abstractions,  we  have 
realities ; instead  of  shutting  out  sensible  evidence  altogether,  we  are 
obliged  to  rely  upon  it  exclusively ; instead  of  intuitions,  we  have  obser- 
vations and  experiments ; instead  of  demonstration,  we  have  induetion ; 
instead  of  the  objects  of  inquiry  being  perfectly  simple  and  uncom- 
pounded, they  are  made  up  of  an  unknown  and  unknowable  number  of 
elements  and  qualities.  The  imperfections  of  the  senses  come  in  here,  to 
their  full  extent,  as  causes  of  possible  error.  The  objects  of  physical  sci- 
ence must  always  be  impetfecthj  known;  we  never  can  be  sure  that  our 
analysis  of  them  is  perfect,  or  that  our  observation  has  taken  in  all  their 
outward  qualities.  The  attractive  power  of  the  loadstone  was  known  for 
centuries  before  its  polarit}^  was  discovered.  Down  to  the  times  of  Watt 
and  Cavendish,  water  was  suj)posed  to  be  a simple  element,  and  it  figures 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


429 


Xor  ought  it  to  be  forgotten,  that  it  is  in  pure  matliematics 
alone,  that  definitions  can  be  attempted  with  propriety  at  the 
outset  of  our  investigations.  In  most  other  instances,  some  pre- 
vious discussion  is  necessary  to  show,  that  the  definitions  which 
we  lay  down  correspond  with  facts ; and,  in  many  cases,  the 


as  such  in  some  of  the  ancient  theories  of  cosmogony ; these  chemists, 
about  a century  ago,  discovered  that  it  was  compounded  of  two  gases. 
The  chemist  will  tell  you  that  it  is  not  impossible,  that  it  is  even  probable, 
that  every  one  of  the  sixty  substances  now  counted  as  elementaiy,  will 
ultimately  be  decomposed.  Of  course,  the  vast  number  of  compounded 
objects  of  which  natural  history  takes  cognizance,  are  still  more  impei'- 
fectly  known  in  their  qualities  and  rel.ations,  than  those  substances  which  as 
yet  are  reckoned  elementary.  This  limited  acquaintance  with  the  subjects 
of  investigation  must  lead  only  to  qualified,  and,  in  the  logical  meaning 
of  the  term,  uncertain,  conclusions  respecting  them. 

Piu'e  logic  .and  pure  mathematics  are  not  so  much  sciences,  as  methods 
of  scientific  inquiry,  or  organa  of  investigation  and  proof.  They  are 
modes  of  reasoning,  irrespective  of  the  subjects  or  facts  about  which  we 
reason,  and  therefore  applicable  to  all  subjects.  In  the  syllogism,  for 
instance,  the  conclusion  follows  with  absolute  certainty  from  the  premises, 
the  truth  of  the  premises  being  presupposed  ; whether  this  truth  rests 
upon  sensible  evidence,  or  intuition,  or  a previous  demonstration,  is  of  no 
consequence.  The  principles  of  the  syllogism,  then,  are  pure  abstrac- 
tions ; and  the  letters  of  the  alph.abet,  or  purely  arbitrary  marks,  taken 
as  signs  of  any  ideas  or  facts  whatsoever,  are  the  most  convenient  nota- 
tion for  ex])ressing  them.  If  the  premises  are  matters  of  fact,  or  contin- 
gent truth,  the  conclusion  will  also  be  a matter  of  fact,  or  contingent 
truth ; only  the  relation  between  the  premises  .and  conclusion  is  a meta- 
physical truth,  and  as  such  is  made  known  by  intuition. 

The  case  is  perfectly  similar  with  mathematics,  in  which  we  employ  a 
notation  of  the  same  sort.  In  its  pure  form,  this  science  proceeds  from 
abstraction  to  abstraction,  the  truth  developed  by  it  h,aving  no  foundation 
in  fact,  and  never  being  exemplified  in  the  external  world.  If  an  ev^ent 
in  the  physical  world,  or  a proposition  founded  on  experience,  be  taken 
as  a datum,  or  point  of  departure  for  the  inquiry,  however  long  the  chain 
of  mathematical  reasoning  may  be  which  proceeds  from  it,  the  result  at 
which  we  arrive,  is  a truth  of  the  same  order  with  the  one  which  formed 
the  basis  of  the  investigation.  It  has  lost  nothing,  and  it  has  gained 
nothing,  in  point  of  logical  certainty,  through  the  process  to  which  it  has 
been  subjected.  — Lowdl  Lectures  on  Metaphysical  and  Ethical  Science, 
Lecture  I.j 


430 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


formation  of  a just  definition  is  the  end  to  which  our  inquiries 
are  directed.  It  is  very  judiciously  observed  by  Mr.  Burke,  in 
his  Essay  on  Taste,  that  “ when  we  define,  we  are  in  danger  of 
circumscribing  nature  within  the  bounds  of  our  own  notions, 
which  we  often  take  up  by  hazard,  or  embrace  on  trust,  or  form 
out  of  a limited  and  partial  consideration  of  the  object  before 
us,  instead  of  extending  our  ideas  to  take  in  all  that  nature 
comprehends,  according  to  her  manner  of  combining.  We  are 
limited  in  our  inquiry  by  the  strict  laws  to  which  we  have  sub- 
mitted at  our  setting  out.” 

The  same  author  adds,  that  “ a definition  may  be  very  exact, 
and  yet  go  but  a very  little  way  towards  informing  us  of  the 
nature  of  the  thing  defined  ; ” and  that,  “ in  the  order  of  things, 
a definition,  let  its  virtue  be  what  it  will,  ought  rather  to  follow 
than  to  precede  our  inquiries,  of  which  it  ought  to  be  considered 
as  the  result.” 

From  a want  of  attention  to  these  circumstances,  and  from  a 
blind  imitation  of  the  mathematical  arrangement  in  specula- 
tions where  facts  are  involved  among  the  principles  of  our 
reasonings,  numberless  errors  in  the  writings  of  philosophers 
might  be  easily  traced.  The  subject  is  of  too  great  extent  to 
be  pursued  any  further  here;  but  it  is  well  entitled  to  the 
examination  of  all  who  may  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  reforma- 
tion of  logic.  That  the  ideas  of  Aristotle  himself,  with  respeet 
to  it,  were  not  very  precise,  must,  I think,  be  granted,  if  the 
following  statement  of  his  ingenious  commentator  be  admitted 
as  correct. 

Definitions  in  geometry  are  not  founded  on  observation. — 
“ Every  general  term,”  says  Dr.  Gillies,  “ is  considered  by  Aris- 
totle, as  the  abridgment  of  a definition ; and  every  definition 
is  denominated  by  him  a collection,  because  it  is  the  result 
always  of  observation  and  eomparison,  and  often  of  many 
observations  and  of  many  comparisons.” 

These  two  propositions  will  be  found,  upon  examination,  not 
very  consistent  with  each  other.  The  fii’st,  “ That  every  general 
term  is  the  abridgment  of  a definition,”  ajiplies,  indeed,  admirably 
to  mathematics  ; and  touches  with  singular  precision  on  the 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTITE  EVIDENCE. 


431 


very  cii'cumstance  which  constitutes,  in  my  opinion,  the  peculiar 
cogency  of  mathematical  reasoning.  But  it  is  to  mathematics 
that  it  applies  exclusively.  If  adopted  as  a logical  maxim  in 
other  branches  of  knowledge,  it  would  prove  an  endless  source 
of  sophistry  and  error.  — The  second  proposition,  on  the  other 
hand,  “ That  every  definition  is  the  result  of  observation  and 
comparison,  and  often  of  many  observations  and  many  compari- 
sons,” however  applicable  to  the  definitions  of  natural  history, 
and  of  other  sciences  which  relate  to  facts,  cannot,  in  one  single 
instance,  apply  to  the  definitions  of  geometry;  inasmuch  as 
these  definitions  are  the  result  neither  of  observations  nor  of 
comparisons,  but  are  the  hypotheses,  or  first  principles,  on  which 
tiie  whole  science  rests. 

If  the  foregoing  account  of  demonstrative  evidence  be  just, 
it  follows,  that  no  chain  of  reasoning  whatever  can  deserve  the 
name  of  a demonstration,  (at  least  in  the  mathematical  sense  of 
that  word)  which  is  not  vltimately  resolvahle  into  hypotheses  or 
defnitions*  It  has  been  already  showm,  that  this  is  the  case 
with  geometry.  And  it  is  also  manifestly  the  case  with  arith- 
metic, another  science  to  which,  in  common  with  geometry,  wm 
apply  the  word  mathematical.  The  simple  arithmetical  equa- 
tions 2 add  2 = 4;  2 add  3 = 5,  and  other  elementary  proposi- 
tions of  the  same  sort,  are,  as  w'as  formerly  observed,  mere 
definitions,  perfectly  analogous,  in  this  respect,  to  those  at  the 
beginning  of  Euclid;  and  it  is  from  a few  fundamental  princi- 


* Although  the  account  given  by  Locke  of  what  constitutes  a demon- 
stration, be  different  from  that  which  I have  here  proposed,  he  admits  the 
converse  of  this  doctrine  as  manifest ; viz.  That  if  we  reason  accurately 
from  our  own  definitions,  our  conclusions  will  possess  demonstrative  evi- 
dence ; and  “ hence  ” he  obsen'es  with  great  truth,  “ it  comes  to  pass, 
that  one  may  often  meet  with  very  clear  and  coherent  discourses,  thai 
amount  yet  to  nothing.”  He  afterwards  remarks,  that,  “ one  may  make 
demonstrations  and  undoubted  propositions  in  words,  and  yet  thereby 
advance  not  one  jot  in  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  things.”  “ Of  this 
sort,”  he  adds,  “ a man  may  find  an  infinite  number  of  propositions,  rea- 
•'sonings,  and  conclusions,  in  books  of  metaphysics,  school-divinity,  and 
some  sort  of  natural  philosophy ; and,  after  all,  know  as  little  of  God 
spirits  or  bodies,  as  he  did  before  he  set  out.” 


4.32 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


[)ies  wiiich  are  essentially  of  the  same  description,  that  all  the 
more  complicated  results  in  the  science  are  derived. 

The  problems  of  geometry  are  as  hypothetical  as  its  theorems. 

■ — To  tills  general  conclusion,  with  respect  to  the  nature  of 
mathematical  demonstration,  an  exception  may  perhaps  be,  at 
fii’st  sight,  apprehended  to  occur,  in  our  reasonings  concerning 
geometrical  joroiZems;  all  of  these  reasonings,  as  is  well  known, 
resting  ultimately  upon  a particular  class  of  principles  called 
jmstidates,  which  are  commonly  understood  to  be  so  very  nearly 
akin  to  axioms,  that  both  might,  without  impropriety,  be  com- 
prehended under  the  same  name.  “ The  definition  of  a postu- 
late,” says  the  learned  and  ingenious  Dr.  Hutton,  “ will  nearly 
agree  also  to  an  axiom,  which  is  a self-evident  theorem,  as  a 
postulate  is  a self-evident  problem.”  The  same  author,  in 
another  part  of  his  work,  quotes  a remark  from  Dr.  Barrow, 
that  “ there  is  the  same  affinity  between  postulates  and  problems, 
as  between  axioms  and  theorems.” 

In  opposition  to  these  very  high  authorities,  I have  no  hesi- 
tation to  assert,  that  it  is  with  the  definitions  of  Euclid,  and  not 
with  the  axioms,  that  the  postulates  ought  to  he  compared,  in 
respect  of  their  logical  character  and  importance  ; — inasmuch 
as  all  the  demonstrations  in  plane  geometry  are  ultimately 
founded  on  the  former,  and  all  the  constructions  which  it  recog- 
nizes as  legitimate,  may  be  resolved  ultimately  into  the  latter. 
To  this  remark  it  may  be  added,  that,  according  to  Euclid’s 
view  of  the  suliject,  the  problems  of  geometry  are  not  less  hypo- 
theticcd  and  speculative,  (or,  to  adopt  the  phraseology  of  some 
late  writers,  not  less  objects  of  pure  reason,)  than  the  theorems  ; 
the  possibility  of  drawing  a mathematical  straight  line,  and  of 
describing  a mathematical  circle,  being  assumed  in  the  construc- 
tion of  every  problem,  in  a way  quite  analogous  to  that  in 
which  the  enunciation  of  a theorem  assumes  the  existence  of 
straight  lines,  and  of  circles  corresponding  to  their  mathematical 
definitions.  The  reasoning,  therefore,  on  which  the  solution  of  a 
problem  rests,  is  not  less  demonstrative  than  that  which  is  em- 
ployed in  proof  of  a theorem.  Grant  the  possibility  of  the  three 
operations  described  in  the  postulates,  and  the  cqri’ectness  of 


HEASOXIXG  AXD  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDEXCE.  433 

the  solution  is  as  matliematically  certain,  as  the  truth  of  any 
property  of  the  triangle  or  of  the  circle.  The  three  postulates 
of  Euclid  are,  indeed,  nothing  more  than  the  definition  of  a 
circle  and  a straight  line  thrown  into  a form  somewhat  different ; 
and  a similar  remark  may  be  extended  to  the  corresponding 
distribution  of  propositions  into  theorems  and  problems.  Not- 
withstanding the  many  conveniences  with  which  this  distribution 
is  attended,  it  was  evidently  a matter  of  choice  rather  than 
of  necessity;  all  the  truths  of  geometry  easily  admitting  of 
being  moulded  into  either  shape,  according  to  the  fancy  of  the 
mathematician.  As  to  the  axioms,  there  cannot  be  a doubt, 
whatever  opinion  may  be  entertained  of  their  utility  or  of  their 
insignificance,  that  they  stand  precisely  in  the  same  relation  to 
both  classes  of  propositions. 

How  far  it  is  true  that  all  mathematical  evidence  is  resolvable 
into  identical  propositions.  — I had  occasion  to  take  notice,  in 
the  first  section  of  the  preceding  cliapter,  of  a theory  with  re- 
spect to  the  nature  of  mathematical  evidence,  very  different 
from  that  which  I have  been  now  attempting  to  explain.  Ac- 
cording to  this  theory  (originally,  I believe,  proposed  by  Leib- 
nitz) we  are  taught,  that  all  mathematical  evidence  ultimately 
resolves  into  the  perception  of  identity ; the  innumerable  variety 
of  propositions  which  have  been  discovered,  or  which  remain 
to  be  discovered  in  the  science,  being  only  diversified  expres- 
sions of  the  simple  formula,  a-=a. 

As  this  account  of  mathematical  e\ddence  is  quite  irreconcil- 
able with  the  scope  of  the  foregoing  observations,  it  is  necessary, 
before  proceeding  further,  to  examine  its  real  import  and 
amount ; and  what  the  circumstances  are  from  which  it  derives 
that  plausibility  which  it  has  been  so  generally  supposed  to 
possess. 

Ideal  superposition  is  the  only  way  of  proving  that  one  space 
is  equal  to  another.  — That  all  mathematical  evidence  resolves 
ultimately  into  the  perception  of  identity,  has  been  considered 
by  some  as  a consequence  of  the  commonly  received  doctrine, 
which  represents  the  axioms  of  Euclid  as  the  first  principles  of 
all  our  subsequent  reasonings  in  geometry.  Upon  this  view  of 

37 


4G4 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


tlie  subject,  I have  nothmg  to  offer  iu  addition  to  what  I have 
already  stated.  The  argument  which  I mean  to  combat  at 
present,  is  of  a more  subtile  and  refined  nature ; and,  at  the 
same  time,  involves  an  admixture  of  important  truth,  which 
contributes  not  a little  to  the  specious  verisimilitude  of  the  con- 
clusion. It  is  founded  on  this  simple  consideration,  that  the 
geometrical  notions  of  equality  and  of  coincidence  are  the  same  ; 
and  that,  even  in  comparing  together  spaces  of  different  figures, 
all  our  conclusions  ultimately  lean  with  their  whole  weiglit  on 
the  imaginary  application  of  one  triangle  to  another ; — the 
object  of  which  imaginary  application  is  merely  to  identify  the 
two  triangles  together  in  every  circumstance  connected  both 
with  magnitude  and  figure.* 

Of  the  justness  of  the  assumption  on  which  this  argument 
proceeds,  I do  not  entertain  the  slightest  doubt.  Whoever  has 
the  curiosity  to  examine  any  one  theorem  in  the  elements  of 
plane  geometry,  in  which  different  spaces  are  compared  to-  * 
gether,  will  easily  perceive,  that  the  demonstration,  when  traced 
back  to  its  first  principles,  tei-minates  in  the  fourth  proposition 
of  Euclid’s  first  book ; a proposition  of  which  the  proof  rests 
entirely  on  a supposed  application  of  the  one  triangle  to  the 
other.  In  the  case  of  equal  tidangles  which  differ  in  figure, 
this  expedient  of  ideal  superposition  cannot  be  directly  and  im- 
mediately employed  to  evince  their  equality ; but  the  demon- 
stration will  nevertheless  be  found  to  rest  at  bottom  on  the  same 
species  of  evidence.  In  illustration  of  this  doctrine,  I shall 
only  appeal  to  the  thirty-seventh  proposition  of  the  first  book, 
in  which  it  is  proved  that  triangles  on  the  same  base,  and  between 


* It  was  probably  with  a view  to  the  establishment  of  this  doctrine,  that 
some  foreign  elementary  writers  have  lately  given  the  name  of  identical 
triangles  to  such  as  agree  with  each  other  both  in  sides,  in  angles,  and  in 
area.  The  differences  which  may  exist  between  them  in  respect  of  place, 
and  of  relative  position  (differences  which  do  ipt  at  all  enter  into  the  rea- 
sonings of  the  geometer)  seem  to  have  been  considered  as  of  so  little 
account  in  discriminating  them  as  separate  objects  of  thought,  that  it  has 
been  concluded  they  only  form  one  and  the  same  triangle,  in  the  contem- 
plation of  the  logician. 


REASONING-  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


435 


the  same  parallels,  are  equal;  a theorem  which  appears,  fiom  a 
very  simple  construction,  to  be  only  a few  steps  removed  from 
the  fourth  of  the  same  book,  in  which  the  supposed  application 
of  the  one  triangle  to  the  other,  is  the  only  medium  of  com- 
parison from  which  their  quality  is  inferred. 

In  general,  it  seems  to  be  almost  self-evident,  that  the  equality 
of  two  spaces  can  be  demonstrated  only  by  showing,  either  that 
the  one  might  be  applied  to  the  other,  so  that  their  boundaries 
should  exactly  coincide ; or  that  it  is  possible,  by  a geometrical 
construction,  to  divide  them  into  compartments,  in  such  a manner, 
that  the  sum  of  parts  in  the  one  may  he  proved  to  be  equal  to 
the  sum  of  parts  in  the  other,  upon  the  principle  of  superposition. 
To  devise  the  easiest  and  simplest  constructions  for  attaining 
this  end,  is  the  object  to  which  the  skill  and  invention  of  the 
geometer  is  chiefly  directed. 

Nor  is  it  the  geometer  alone  who  reasons  upon  this  pi-inciple. 
If  you  wish  to  convince  a person  of  plain  understanding,  who 
is  quite  unacquainted  with  mathematics,  of  the  truth  of  one  of 
Euclid’s  theorems,  it  can  only  be  done  by  exhibiting  to  his  eye 
operations  exactly  analogous  to  those  which  the  geometer  pre- 
sents to  the  understanding.  A good  example  of  tliis  occurs  in 
the  sensible  or  experimental  illustration  wliich  is  sometimes 
given  of  the  forty-seventh  proposition  of  Euclid’s  first  book. 
For  this  purpose,  a card  is  cut  into  the  foi’m  of  a right  angled 
triangle,  and  square  pieces  of  card  are  adapted  to  the  different 
sides ; after  wliich,  by  a simple  and  ingenious  contrivance,  the 
diflerent  squares  are  so  dissected,  that  those  of  the  two  sides 
are  made  to  cover  the  same  space  with  the  squai’e  of  the 
hypothenuse.  In  truth,  this  mode  of  comparison  by  a super- 
position, actual  or  ideal,  is  the  only  test  of  equality  which  it  is 
jmssihle  to  appeal  to  ; and  it  is  from  this,  as  seems  from  a pas- 
sage in  Proclus  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  Apollonius,  that,  in 
point  of  logical  rigor,  the  definition  of  geometrical  equality 
should  have  been  taken.*  The  subject  is  discussed  at  great 


* I do  not  think,  however,  that  it  would  he  fair,  on  this  account,  to  cen- 
sure Euclid  for  the  arrangement  whicli  he  has  adopted,  as  he  has  thereby 


43C  REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

length  and  with  much  acuteness,  as  well  as  learning,  in  one  of 
the  mathematical  lectures  of  Dr.  Barrow  ; to  which  I must 
refer  those  readers  who  may  wish  to  see  it  more  fully  illus- 
trated. 

Identity  and  equality  are  not  convertible  terms.  — I am  strongly 
inclined  to  suspect,  that  most  of  the  writers  who  have  main- 
tained that  all  mathematical  evidence  resolves  ultimately  into 
the  perception  of  identity  have  had  a secret  reference  in  their 
own  minds  to  the  doctrine  just  stated ; and  that  they  have  im- 
posed on  themseh'es,  by  using  the  words  identity  and  equality 
as  literally  synonymous  and  convertible  terms.  This  does  not 
seem  to  be  at  all  consistent,  either  in  point  of  expression  or  of 
fact,  with  sound  logic.  When  it  is  affirmed,  for  instance,  that 
“ if  two  straight  lines  in  a circle  intersect  each  other,  the  rec- 
tangle contained  by  the  segments  of  the  one  is  equal  to  the 
rectangle  contained  by  the  segments  of  the  other ; ” can  it  with 
any  propriety  be  said,  that  the  relation  between  these  rectangles 
may  be  expressed  by  the  formula  a — a?  Or,  to  take  a case  yet 


most  ingeniously  and  dexterously  tried  to  keep  out  of  the  view  of  the 
student  some  very  puzzling  questions,  to  which  it  is  not  possible  to  give  a 
satisfactory  answer  till  a considerable  progress  has  been  made  in  the  ele- 
ments. When  it  is  stated  in  the  form  of  a self-evident  truth,  that  magni- 
tudes which  coincide,  or  which  exactly  fill  the  same  space,  are  equal  to  one 
another,  the  beginner  readily  yields  his  assent  to  the  proposition  ; and 
tliis  assent,  without  going  any  further,  is  all  that  is  required  in  any  of  the 
demonstrations  of  the  first  six  books ; whereas,  if  the  proposition  were 
converted  into  a definition,  by  saying,  “ Equal  magnitudes  are  those  whidi 
coincide,  or  which  exactly  fill  the  same  space  ; ” the  question  would  imme- 
diatclj^  occur.  Are  no  magnitudes  equal  but  those  to  which  this  test  of 
cnpialitycan  be  applied!  Can  the  relation  of  equality  not  subsist  between 
magnitudes  which  differ  from  each  other  in  figure  ? In  reply  to  this  ques- 
tion, it  would  be  necessary  to  explain  the  definition,  by  adding.  That  those 
magnitudes  likewise  are  said  to  be  equal,  which  are  capable  of  being 
divided  or  dissected  in  such  a manner,  that  the  parts  of  the  one  may  sever- 
ally coincide  with  the  parts  of  the  other;  a conception  much  too  refined 
and  complicated  for  the  generality  of  students  at  their  first  outset ; and 
which,  if  it  were  fully  and  clearly  apprehended,  would  plunge  them  at  once 
into  the  profound  speculation  concerning  the  comparison  of  rectilineal 
with  curvilinear  figures. 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


437 


stronger,  when  it  is  affirmed,  that  “ the  area  of  a circle  is  equal 
to  that  of  a triansrle  having  the  circumference  for  its  base,  and 
the  radius  for  its  altitude ; ” would  it  not  be  an  obvious  paralo- 
gism to  infer  from  this  proposition,  that  the  triangle  and  the  circle 
are  one  and  the  same  thing  ? In  this  last  instance.  Dr.  Barrow 
himself  has 'thought  it  necessary,  in  order  to  reconcile  the  lan- 
guage of  Archimedes  with  that  of  Euclid,  to  have  recourse  to 
a scholastic  distinction  between  actual  and  potential  coincidence  ; 
and,  therefore,  if  we  are  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  principle  of 
superposition,  in  defence  of  the  fashionable  theory  concerning 
mathematical  evidence,  we  must,  I apprehend,  introduce  a cor- 
respondent distinction  between  actual  and  potential  identity. 

That  I may  not  be  accused,  however,  of  misrepresenting  the 
opinion  which  I am  anxious  to  refute,  I shall  state  it  in  the 
words  of  an  author,  who  has  made  it  the  subject  of  a particular 
dissertation  ; and  who  appears  to  me  to  have  done  as  much  jus- 
tice to  his  argument  as  any  of  its  other  defenders. 

[“  All  mathematical  propositions  are  identical,  and  may  be 
represented  by  this  formula,  a = a.  They  are  identical  truths, 
expressed  in  various  forms,  or  rather  they  are  what  is  called 
t\\e principle  of  contradiction  itself,*  variously  enunciated  and 
involved ; as,  indeed,  all  propositions  of  this  sort  are  really  in- 
volved in  this  principle.  According  to  our  way  of  understand- 
ing, such  propositions  differ  from  each  other  only  in  this,  that 
some  of  them  are  reduced  to  the  principle  of  contradiction,  and 
resolved  into  it.  by  a long  train  of  reasoning,  others  by  a shorter 
one.  Thus,  for  example,  the  proposition  2 -|-  2 = 4 is  resolved 
immediately  into  this,  l-|-l-j-l-|-l  = l-|-l-j-l-|-l;  that  is, 
the  same  is  the  same ; and,  properly  speaking,  it  ought  to  be 
thus  enunciated,  — if  four  things  exist,  then  four  things  exist. 
For  geometricians  do  not  treat  of  existence  directly,  but  it  is 
introduced  only  by  way  of  hypothesis.  Hence  the  highest 
degree  of  certainty  results  to  one  who  examines  such  reasoning ; 
for  he  observes  the  identity  of  two  ideas ; and  this  is  the  evi- 


* [ The  principle  of  contradiction  is  the  axiom,  that  “it  is  impossible  for 
the  same  thino-  to  be  and  not  to  be  at  the  same  moment.”] 

37  * 


438 


REASOJS'ING  AAD  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


tlence  compelling  our  immediate  assent,  which  we  call  mathe- 
matical or  geometrical  evidence.  Yet  such  evidence  is  not 
peculiar  to  mathematical  science  alone,  for  it  arises  from  the 
perception  of  identity,  and  the  identity  of  two  ideas  may  be 
recognized,  though  they  do  not  represent  extension.”] 

Truths  must  he  distinguished  from  the  evidence  bg^  which  they 
are  supported.  — With  respect  to  this  passage  I have  only  to 
remai’k,  (and  the  same  thing  is  observable  of  every  other  at- 
tempt which  has  been  made  to  support  the  opinion  in  question,) 
that  the  author  confounds  two  things  essentially  different;  — the 
nature  of  the  truths  which  are  the  objects  of  a science,  and  the 
nature  of  the  evidence  by  which  these  truths  are  established. 
Granting,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  all  mathematical  prop- 
ositions may  be  represented  by  the  formula  a = a,  it  would  not, 
therefore,  follow,  that  every  step  of  the  reasoning  leading  to  these 
conclusions,  was  a proposition  of  the  same  nature  ; and  that,  to 
feel  the  full  force  of  a mathematical  demonstration,  it  is  sufficient 
to  be  convinced  of  this  maxim,  that  every  thing  may  be  truly 
predicated  of  itself;  or,  in  plain  English,  that  the  same  is  the 
same.  A paper  written  in  cipher,  and  the  interpretation  of  that 
})aper  by  a skilful  decipherer,  may,  in  like  manner,  be  considered 
as,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  one  and  the  same  thing.  They 
are  so,  in  fact,  just  as  much  as  one  side  of  an  algebraical  equa- 
tion is  the  same  thing  with  the  other.  But  does  it  therefore 
follow,  tliat  the  whole  evidence  upon  which  the  art  of  decipher- 
ing proceeds,  resolves  into  the  perception  of  identity  ? 

It  may  be  fairly  questioned,  too,  whether  it  can,  with  strict 
correctness,  be  said  even  of  the  simple  arithmetical  equation 
2 -j-  2 = 4,  that  it  may  be  represented  by  the  formula  a = a. 
The  one  is  a proposition  asserting  the  equivalence  of  two  dif- 
ferent expressions;  — to  ascertain  which  equivalence  may,  in 
numberless  cases,  be  an  object  of  the  highest  importance.  The 
other  is  altogether  unmeaning  and  nugatory,  and  cannot,  by  any 
jiossible  supposition,  admit  of  the  slightest  application  of  a prac- 
tical nature.  What  opinion,  then,  shall  we  form  of  the  proposi- 
tion a = a,  when  considered  as  the  representative  of  such  a 
formula  as  the  binomial  theorem  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  ? When 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


439 


applied  to  the  equation  2-\-2=zi,  (which,  from  its  extreme 
simplicity  and  familiarity,  is  apt  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of 
an  axiom,)  the  paradox  does  not  appear  to  be  so  manifestly 
exti'avagant ; but,  in  the  other  case,  it  seems  quite  impossible  to 
annex  to  it  any  meaning  whatever. 

The  doctrine  of  Condillac  respecting  all  sorts  of  evidence 
controverted.  — I should  scarcely  have  been  induced  to  dwell  so 
long  on  this  theory  of  Leibnitz  concerning  mathematical  evi- 
dence, if  I had  not  observed  among  some  late  logicians,  (partic- 
ularly among  the  followers  of  Condillac),  a growing  disposition 
to  extend  it  to  all  the  different  sorts  of  evidence  resulting  from 
the  various  employments  of  our  reasoning  powers.  Condillac 
himself  states  his  own  opinion  on  this  point  with  the  most  per- 
fect confidence.  [“  The  evidence  of  reason  consists  altogether 
in  identity,  as  we  have  demonstrated.  This  truth  must  be  very 
simjile  to  have  escaped  the  notice  of  all  the  philosophers,  who 
are  so  much  interested  in  establishing  the  grounds  of  the  evi- 
dence which  they  ai’e  incessantly  talking  about.”] 

The  demonstration  here  alluded  fb,  is  extremely  concise  ; and 
if  we  grant  the  two  data  on  which  it  proceeds,  must  be  univer- 
sally acknowledged  to  be  irresistible.  The  first  is,  “ That  the 
evidence  of  every  mathematical  equation  is  that  of  identity ; ” 
the  second,  “ That  what  are  called,  in  the  other  sciences,  propo- 
sitions or  judgments,  are,  at  bottom,  precisely  of  the  same 
nature  with  equations.”  — But  it  is  proper,  on  this  occasion,  to 
let  our  author  speak  for  himself. 

[“  But  it  will  be  said,  that  we  reason  in  this  way  in  mathe- 
matics, where  the  reasoning  is  expressed  in  equations ; but  will 
it  be  so  in  the  other  sciences,  where  the  reasoning  is  stated  in 
propositions  ? I answer,  that  equations,  propositions,  and  judg- 
ments are  at  bottom  the  same  thing,  and  consequently,  that  we 
reason  in  the  same  manner  in  all  the  sciences.”] 

Upon  this  demonstration  I have  no  comment  to  offer.  The 
truth  of  the  first  assumption  has  been  already  examined  at  suf- 
ficient length ; and  the  second  (which  is  only  Locke’s  very  erro- 
neous account  of  judgment,  stated  in  terms  incomparably  more 
exceptionable,)  is  too  puerile  to  admit  of  refutation.  It  is  mel- 


440 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


anclioly  to  reflect,  that  a writer,  who,  in  his  earlier  years,  had 
so  admirably  unfolded  the  mighty  influence  of  language  uj)on 
our  siieculative  conclusions,  should  have  left  behind  him,  in  one 
of  his  latest  pubbcatious,  so  memorable  an  illustration  of  his 
own  favorite  doctrine. 

It  was  manifestly  with  a view  to  the  more  complete  establish- 
ment of  the  same  theory,  that  Condillac  undertook  a work, 
which  has  appeared  since  his  death,  under  the  title  of  La  Lan- 
gue  des  Calcids  ; and  which,  we  are^told  by  the  editors,  was 
only  meant  as  a prelude  to  other  labors,  more  interesting  and 
more  difficult.  From  the  circumstances  which  they  have  stated, 
it  would  seem  that  the  intention  of  the  author  was  to  extend  to 
all  the  other  branches  of  knowledge,  inferences  similar  to  those 
which  he  has  here  endeavored  to  establish  with  respect  to  math- 
ematical calculations ; and  much  regi-et  is  expressed  by  his 
friends,  that  he  had  not  lived  to  accomplish  a design  of  such 
incalculable  importance  to  human  happiness.  I believe  I may 
safely  venture  to  assert,  that  it  was  fortunate  for  his  reputation 
he  proceeded  no  furtbei’;  as  the  sequel  must,  from  the  nature 
of  the  subject,  have  afforded,  to  every  competent  judge,  an  ex- 
perimental and  palpable  proof  of  the  vagueness  and  fallacious- 
ness of  those  views  by  wbich  the  undertaking  was  suggested. 
In  his  posthumous  volume,  the  mathematical  jirecision  and 
persjiicuity  of  his  details  appear  to  a superficial  reader  to  reflect 
some  part  of  their  own  light  on  the  general  reasonings  with 
which  they  are  blended ; while  to  better  judges,  these  reason- 
ings come  recommended  with  many  advantages  and  with  much 
additional  authority,  from  their  coincidence  with  the  doctrines 
of  the  Leibnitzian  school. 

Cond.illa.c' s doctrine,  anticipated  hg  Hobbes.  — It  would  proba- 
bly have  been  not  a little  mortifying  to  this  most  ingenious  and 
respectable  philosopher,  to  have  discovered,  that,  in  attempting 
to  generalize  a very  celebrated  theory  of  Leibnitz,  he  had 
stumbled  upon  an  obsolete  conceit,  started  in  this  island  up- 
wards of  a century  before.  “ When  a man  reasoneth,”  says 
Hobbes,  “ he  does  nothing  else  but  conceive  a sum  total,  from 
addition  of  parcels ; or  conceive  a remainder  from  subtraction 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


441 


oF  one  sum  from  another ; which,  if  it  be  done  by  wmrds,  is  con- 
ceiving of  tlie  consequence  of  the  names  of  all  the  parts  to  the 
name  of  the  wdiole ; or  from  the  name  of  the  whole  and  one 
part,  to  the  name  of  the  other  part.  These  operations  are  not 
incident  to  number  only,  but  to  all  manner  of  things  that  can 
be  added  together,  and  taken  one  out  of  another.  In  sum,  in 
wdiat  matter  soever  there  is  place  for  addition  and  substraction, 
there  also  is  place  for  reason  ; and  where  these  have  no  place, 
there  reason  has  nothing  at  all  to  do. 

“ Out  of  all  wdiich  w^e  rhay  define  wdiat  that  is  which  is  meant 
by  the  word  reason,  when  we  reckon  it  amongst  the  faculties  of 
the  mind.  For  reason,  in  this  sense,  is  nothing  but  reckoning 
(that  is,  adding  and  substracting),  of  the  consequences  of  gen- 
eral names  agreed  upon  for  the  marking  and  signifying  of  our 
thoughts  ; — I say  marking  them,  wdien  w'e  reckon  by  ourselves ; 
and  signifying,  when  we  demonstrate  or  approve  our  reckonings 
to  other  men.”  {Leviathan,  chap.  5.) 

Agreeably  to  this  definition,  Hobbes  has  given  to  the  first 
part  of  his  elements  of  philosophy,  the  title  of  Computatio,  sive 
Logica ; evidently  employing  these  two  words  as  precisely 
synonymous. 

How  wonderfully  does  this  jargon  agree  with  the  assertion 
of  Condillac,  that  all  equations  are  propositions,  and  all  proposi- 
tions equations ! 

These  speculations,  however,  of  Condillac  and  of  Hobbes, 
relate  to  reasoning  in  general ; and  it  is  with  mathematical  rea- 
soning alone  that  we  are  immediately  concerned  at  present. 
That  the  peculiar  evidence  with  which  this  is  accompanied,  is 
not  resolvable  into  the  perception  of  identity,  has,  I flatter  my- 
self, been  sufficiently  proved  in  the  beginning  of  this  article ; 
and  the  plausible  extension  by  Condillac  of  the  very  same  the- 
ory to  our  reasonings  in  all  the  different  branches  of  moral  sci- 
ence, affords  a strong  additional  presumption  in  favor  of  our 
conclusion. 

Evidence  of  the  mechanical  philosophy  not  to  he  confounded 
with  that  which  is  properly  called  demonstrative  or  mathemati- 
cal.— Next  to  geometry  and  arithmetic,  in  point  of  evidence 


442 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


and  certainty,  is  tliat  branch  of  general  physics  which  is  now 
called  mechanical  philosophi/  [or  mechanics,  simply]  ; a science 
in  which  tlie  progress  of  discovery  has  been  astonishingly 
rapid,  during  the  course  of  the  last  century ; and  which,  in  the 
systematical  concatenation  and  filiation  of  its  elementary  prin- 
ciples, exhibits  every  day  more  and  more  of  that  logical  sim- 
plicit}"  and  elegance  which  we  admire  in  the  works  of  the  Greek 
mathematicians.  It  may.  I think,  be  fairly  questioned,  whether, 
in  this  department  of  knowledge,  the  affectation  of  mathemati- 
cal method  has  not  been  already  carried  to  an  excess ; tlie 
essential  distinction  between  mechanical  and  mathematical 
truths  being,  in  many  of  the  physical  systems  which  have  lately 
appeared  on  the  Continent,  studiously  kept  out  of  the  reader’s 
view,  by  exhibiting  both,  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  the  same 
form.  A variety  of  circumstances,  indeed,  conspire  to  identify 
in  the  imagination,  and,  of  consequence,  to  assimilate  in  the 
mode  of  their  statement,  these  two  very  different  classes  of 
propositions ; but  as  this  assimilation,  besides  its  obvious  ten- 
dency to  involve  experimental  facts  in  metaphysical  mystery,  is 
apt  occasionally  to  lead  to  very  erroneous  logical  conclusions,  it 
becomes  the  more  necessary,  in  proportion  as  it  arises  from  a 
natural  bias,  to  point  out  the  causes  in  which  it  has  originated, 
and  the  limitations  with  which  it  ought  to  be  understood. 

The  following  slight  remarks  will  sufficiently  explain  my 
general  ideas  on  this  important  article  of  logic. 

1.  As  the  study  of  the  mechanical  philosophy  is,  in  a great 
measure,  inaccessible  to  those  who  have  not  received  a regular 
mathematical  education,  it  commonly  happens,  that  a taste  for 
it  is,  in  the  first  instance,  grafted  on  a previous  attachment  to 
the  researches  of  pure  or  abstract  mathematics.  Hence  a nat- 
ural and  insensible  transference  to  physical  pursuits,  of  mathe- 
matical habits  of  thinking;  and  hence  an  almost  unavoidable 
propensity  to  give  to  the  former  science  that  systematical  con- 
nection in  all  its  various  conclusions  which,  from  the  nature  of 
its  first  jirinciples,  is  essential  to  the  latter,  but  which  can  never 
belong  to  any  science  which  has  its  foundations  laid  in  facts,  col- 
lected from  experience  and  observation. 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


443 


2.  Another  circumstance  which  has  cooperated  powerfully 
with  the  former  in  producing  the  same  effect,  is  that  proneness 
to  simplification  which  has  misled  the  mind,  more  or  less,  in  all 
its  researches,  and  which,  in  natural  philosophy,  is  peculiarly 
encoui'aged  by  those  beautiful  analogies  which  are  observable 
among  different  jihysical  phenomena,  — analogies,  at  the  same 
time,  which,  however  pleasing  to  the  fancy,  cannot  always  be 
resolved  by  our  reason  into  one  general  law.  In  a remarkable 
analogy,  for  example,  which  presents  itself  between  the  equality 
of  action  and  reaction  in  the  collision  of  bodies,  and  what  ob- 
tains in  their  mutual  attractions,  the  coincidence  is  so  perfect, 
as  to  enable  us  to  comprehend  all  the  A'arious  facts  in  the  same 
theorem ; and  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  wliich  it 
seems  to  offer  to  our  ingenuity,  of  attempting  to  trace  it,  in  both 
cases,  to  some  common  principle.  Such  trials  of  theoretical 
skill,  I would  not  be  understood  to  censure  indiscriminately ; 
but  in  the  present  instance,  I am  fully  pei-suaded,  that  it  is  at 
once  more  unexceptionable  in  point  of  sound  logic,  and  more 
satisfactory  to  the  learner,  to  establish  the  fact,  in  particular 
cases,  by  an  appeal  to  experiment ; and  to  state  the  law  of 
action  and  reaction  in  the  collision  of  bodies,  as  well  as  that 
which  regulates  the  mutual  tendencies  of  bodies  towards  each 
other,  merely  as  general  rules  which  have  been  obtained  by 
induction,  and  which  are  found  to  hold  invariably  as  far  as  our 
knowledge  of  nature  extends. 

3.  To  these  remarks  it  may  be  added,  that  even  when  one 
proposition  in  natural  philosophy  is  logically  deducible  from 
another,  it  may  frequently  be  expedient,  in  communicating  the 
elements  of  the  science,  to  illustrate  and  confirm  the  consequence, 
as  well  as  the  principle,  by  experiment.  This  I should  appre- 
hend to  be  proper  wherever  a consequence  is  inferred  from  a 
principle  less  familiar  and  intelligible  than  itself ; a thing  which 
must  occasionally  happen  in  physics,  from  the  complete  incor- 
poration, if  I may  use  the  expression,  which,  in  modern  times, 
has  taken  place  between  physical  truths,  and  the  discoveries  of 
mathematicians.  The  necessary  effect  of  this  incorporation  was, 
to  give  to  natural  philosophy  a mathematical  form,  and  to  sys- 


4 11  REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

teinatize  its  conclusions,  as  far  as  possible,  agreeably  to  rules 
suggested  by  mathematical  method. 

Arbitrarr/  selection  of  the  premises  'in  mathematical  reasoning. 
— In  pure  mathematics,  where  the  truths  which  we  investigate 
ai-e  all  coexistent  in  point  of  time,  it  is  universally  allowed, 
that  one  proposition  is  said  to  be  a consequence  of  another,  only 
wiih  a reference  to  our  established  arrangements.  Thus,  all  the 
properties  of  the  circle  might  be  as  rigorously  deduced  from  any 
one  general  property  of  the  curve,  as  from  the  equality  of  the 
radii.  But  it  does  not  therefore  follow,  that  all  these  arrange- 
ments would  be  equally  convenient ; on  the  contrary,  it  is  evi- 
dently useful,  and  indeed  necessary,  to  lead  the  mind,  as  far  as 
the  thing  is  practicable,  from  what  is  simple  to  what  is  more 
complex.  The  misfortune  is,  that  it  seems  impossible  to  carry 
this  rule  universally  into  execution ; and  accordingly,  in  the 
most  elegant  geometrical  treatises  which  have  yet  appeared, 
instances  occur,  in  which  consequences  are  deduced  from  prin- 
ciples more  complicated  than  themselves. 

Such  inversions,  however,  of  what  may  justly  be  regarded  as 
the  natural  order,  must  always  be  felt  by  the  author  as  a subject 
of  regret ; and,  in  proportion  to  their  frequency,  they  detract 
both  from  the  beauty  and  from  the  didactic  simplicity  of  his 
general  design. 

Abstract  conclusions  in  mechanics  should  be  verified  by  ex- 
periment. — The  same  thing  often  happens  in  the  elementary 
doctrines  of  natural  philosophy.  A very  obvious  example 
occurs,  in  the  different  demonstrations  given  by  writers  on 
mechanics,  from  the  resolution  of  forces,  of  the  fundamental 
proposition  concerning  the  lever ; demonstrations  in  which  the 
proposition,  even  in  the  simple  case  when  the  directions  of  the 
forces  are  supposed  to  be  parallel,  is  inferred  from  a process  of 
reasoning  involving  one  of  the  most  refined  principles  employed 
in  the  mechanical  philosophy.  I do  not  object  to  this  arrange- 
ment as  illogical ; nor  do  I presume  to  say  that  it  is  injudicious. 
I would  only  suggest  the  propriety,  in  such  instances,  of  con- 
firming and  illustrating  the  conclusion  by  an  appeal  to  experi- 
ment ; an  appeal  which,  in  natural  philosophy,  possesses  an 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


445 


authority  equal  to  that  which  is  generally,  but  veiy  improperly, 
considered  as  a mathematical  demonstration  of  physical  truths. 
In  pure  geometry,  no  reference  to  the  senses  can  be  admitted, 
but  in  the  way  of  illustration ; and  any  such  reference,  in  the 
most  trifling  step  of  a demonstration,  vitiates  the  whole.  But 
in  natural  philosophy,  all  our  reasonings  must  be  grounded  on 
principles  for  which  no  evidence  but  that  of  sense  can  be  ob- 
tained ; and  the  propositions  which  we  establish,  differ  from 
each  other  only  as  they  are  deduced  from  such  principles  im- 
mediately, or  by  the  intervention  of  a mathematical  demonstra- 
tion. An  experimental  proof,  therefore,  of  any  particular 
physical  truth,  when  it  can  be  conveniently  obtained,  although  it 
may  not  always  be  the  most  elegant  or  the  most  expedient  way 
of  introducing  it  to  the  knowledge  of  the  student,  is  as  rigorous 
and  as  satisfactory  as  any  other ; for  the  intervention  of  a pro- 
cess of  mathematical  reasoning  can  never  bestow  on  our  conclu- 
sions a greater  degree  of  certainty  than  our  principles  possessed. 

Excessive  use  of  mathematical  reasoning  in  physics.  — I have 
been  led  to  enlarge  on  these  topics  by  that  unqualified  applica- 
tion of  mathematical  method  to  physics,  which  has  been  fashion- 
able for  many  years  past  among  foreign  writers,  and  which 
seems  to  have  originated  chiefly  in  the  commanding  influence 
which  the  genius  and  learning  of  Leibnitz  has  so  long  main- 
tained over  the  scientific  taste  of  most  European  nations.  In 
an  account,  lately  published,  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Dr. 
Reid,  I have  taken  notice  of  some  other  inconveniences  result- 
ing from  it,  still  more  important  than  the  introduction  of  an 
unsound  logic  into  the  elements  of  natural  philosophy ; in  par- 
ticular, of  the  obvious  tendency  which  it  has  to  withdraw  the 
attention  from  that  unity  of  design  which  is  the  noblest  employ- 
ment of  philosophy  to  illustrate,  by  disguising  it  under  the 
semblance  of  an  eternal  and  necessary  order,  similar  to  what 
the  mathematician  delights  to  trace  among  the  mutual  relations 
of  quantities  and  figures.  The  consequence  has  been,  (in  too 
many  physical  systems,)  to  level  the  study  of  nature,  in  point 
of  moral  interest,  with  the  investigations  of  the  algebraist ; — an 
effect,  too,  which  has  taken  place  most  remarkably,  where,  from 

38 


44G 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


the  sublimity  of  the  subject,  it  was  least  to  be  expected,  — in 
the  ajiplication  of  the  mechanical  philosophy  to  the  phenomena 
of  the  heavens.  But  on  this  very  extensive  and  important 
topic  I must  not  enter  at  present. 

The  opposite  error,  of  ranking  mathematics  among  the  sciences 
of  experiment  and  observation,  confuted.  — In  the  ojiposite  ex- 
treme to  the  error  which  I have  now  been  endeavoring  to  cor- 
rect, is  a paradox,  which  was  broached  about  twenty  years  ago 
by  the  late  ingenious  Dr.  Beddoes ; and  which  has  since  been 
adopted  by  some  writers  whose  names  are  better  entitled,  on  a 
question  of  this  sort,  to  give  weight  to  their  opinions.  By  the 
partizans  of  this  new  doctrine,  it  seems  to  be  imagined  that,  so 
far  from  physics  being  a branch  of  mathematics,  mathematics,  and 
more  particularly  geometry,  is,  in  reality,  only  a branch  of  physics. 
“ The  mathematical  sciences,”  says  Dr.  Beddoes,  “ are  sciences 
of  experiment  and  obsei’vation,  founded  solely  on  the  induction 
of  particular  facts  ; as  much  so  as  mechanics,  astronomy,  optics, 
or  chemistry.  In  the  kind  of  evidence,  there  is  no  difference ; 
for  it  originates  from  perception  in  all  these  cases  alike ; but 
mathematical  experiments  are  more  simple,  and  more  perfectly 
within  the  grasp  of  our  senses,  and  our  perceptions  of  mathe- 
matical objects  are  clearer.” 

A doctrine  essentially  the  same,  though  expressed  in  terms 
iiot  quite  so  revolting,  has  been  .lately  sanctioned  by  Mr.  Leslie  ; 
and  it  is  to  his  view  of  the  argument  that  I mean  to  confine  my 
attention  at  present.  “ The  whole  structure  of  geometry,”  he 
remarks,  “ is  grounded  on  the  simple  comparison  of  triangles  ; 
and  all  the  fundamental  theorems  which  relate  to  this  compari- 
son, derive  their  evidence  from  the  mere  superposition  of  the 
triangles  themselves ; a mode  of  proof  which,  in  reality,  is  noth- 
ing but  an  ultimate  appeal,  though  of  the  easiest  and  most 
familiar  kind,  to  external  observation.”*  And,  in  another  pas- 


* Elements  of  Geometry  and  of  Geometrical  Analysis,  etc.  By  Mr. 
Leslie.  Edinburgh,  1809.  The  assertion  that  the  whole  structure  of 
geometry  is  founded  on  the  comparison  of  triangles,  is  expressed  in  terms 
too  unqualified.  D’Alembert  has  mentioned  another  principle  as  not  less 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


447 


^age : “ Geometrj,  like  the  other  sciences  which  are  not  con- 
cerned about  the  operations  of  mind,  rests  ultimately  on  ex- 
ternal observations.  But  those  ultimate  facts  are  so  few,  so 
distinct  and  obvious,  that  the  subsequent  train  of  reasoning  is 
safely  pursued  to  an  unlimited  extent,  without  ever  appealing 
again  to  the  evidence  of  the  senses.” 

The  two  arguments  adduced  to  support  this  doctrine.  — Before 
proceeding  to  make  any  remarks  on  this  theorj’’,  it  is  proper  to 
premise,  that  it  involves  two  separate  considerations,  which  it  is 
of  material  consequence  to  distinguish  from  each  other.  The 
first  is,  that  extension  and  figure,  the  subjects  of  geometry,  are 
qualities  of  body  which  are  made  known  to  us  hy  our  external 
senses  alone,  and  which  actually  fall  under  the  consideration  of 
the  natural  philosopher,  as  well  as  of  the  mathematician.  The 
second,  that  the  whole  fabric  of  geometrical  science  rests  on  the 
comparison  of  triangles,  in  forming  which  comparison,  %oe  are 
idtimately  obliged  to  appecd  (in  the  same  manner  as  in  establish- 
ing the  first  principles  of  physics)  to  a sensible  and  experimental 
proof. 

1.  The  mathematical  affections  of  matter  are  necessary  and 
eternal,  and  therefore  not  dependent  on  the  evidence  of  the  senses. 
— In  answer  to  the  first  of  these  allegations,  it  might  perhaps 
be  sufficient  to  observe,  that  in  order  to  identify  two  sciences,  it 
is  not  enough  to  state,  that  they  are  both  conversant  about  the 
same  objects ; it  is  necessary  further  to  show,  that  in  both  cases, 
these  objects  are  considered  in  the  same  point  of  view,  and  give 


fuTidamental,  the  measurement  of  angles  by  circular  arches.  “ The  funda- 
mental propositions  of  geometry  may  be  reduced  to  two ; the  measure  of  angles  by 
circular  arcs,  and  the  principle  of  superposition.”  The  same  writer,  however, 
justly  observes,  in  another  part  of  his  works,  that  the  measure  of  angles, 
by  circular  arches,  is  itself  dependent  on  the  principle  of  superposition: 
and  that,  consequently,  however  extensive  and  important  in  its  applica- 
tion, it  is  entitled  only  to  rank  with  what  he  calls  principles  of  a second 
order. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  saying  that  the  whole  structure  of  geometry  is 
grounded  on  the  comparison  of  triangles,  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say, 
that  it  is  grounded  on  the  principle  of  superposition. 


448 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


erajiloyment  to  the  same  faculties  of  the  mind.  Tlie  poet,  the 
painter,  the  gardener,  and  the  botanist,  are  all  occupied,  in  vari- 
ous degrees  and  modes,  with  the  study  of  the  vegetable  king- 
dom ; yet  who  has  ever  thought  of  confounding  their  several 
pursuits  under  one  common  name  ? The  natural  historian,  the 
civil  historian,  the  moralist,  the  logician,  the  dramatist,  and  the 
statesman,  are  all  engaged  in  the  study  of  man,  and  of  the  prin- 
cijdes  of  human  nature  ; yet  how  widely  discriminated  are  these 
various  departments  of  science  and  of  art ! how  diffei’ent  are 
the  kinds  of  evidence  on  which  they  respectively  rest ! how 
different  the  intellectual  habits  which  they  have  a tendency  to 
form  ! Indeed,  if  this  mode  of  generalization  were  to  be  ad- 
mitted as  legitimate,  it  would  lead  us  to  blend  all  the  objects  of 
science  into  one  and  the  same  mass ; inasmuch  as  it  is  by  the 
same  impressions  on  our  external  senses,  that  our  intellectual 
faculties  are,  in  the  first  instance,  roused  to  action,  and  all  the 
first  elements  of  our  knowledge  unfolded. 

In  the  instance,  however,  before  us,  there  is  a very  remarkable 
specialty,  or  rather  singularity,  which  renders  the  attempt  to  iden- 
tify the  objects  of  geometrical  and  physical  science  incompara- 
bly more  illogical  than  it  would  be  to  classify  poetry  with  botany, 
or  the  natural  history  of  man  with  the  political  history  of  nations. 
This  specialty  arises  from  certain  peculiarities  in  the  metaphysi- 
cal nature  of  those  sensible  qualities  which  fall  under  the  consid- 
eration of  the  geometer ; and  which  led  me,  in  a different  work,  to 
distinguish  them  from  other  sensible  qualities  (both  primary  and 
secondary,)  by  bestowing  on  them  the  title  of  mathematical  affec- 
tions of  matter.  Of  these  mathematical  affections  (^magnitude 
saidfgure)  our  first  notions  are,  no  doubt,  derived  (as  well  as  of 
hardness,  softness,  roughness,  and  smoothness)  from  the  exercise 
of  our  external  senses ; but  it  is  equally  certain,  that  when  the 
notions  of  magnitude  and  figure  have  once  been  acquired,  the 
mind  is  immediately  led  to  consider  them  as  attributes  of  space 
no  less  than  of  body : and  (abstracting  them  entirely  from  the 
other  sensible  qualities  perceived  in  conjunction  with  them,) 
becomes  impressed  with  an  irresistible  conviction,  that  their 
existence  is  necessary  and  eternal,  and  that  it  would  remain  un- 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


449 


changed  if  all  the  bodies  in  the  universe  were  annihilated.  It 
is  not  our  business  here  to  inquii-e  into  the  origin  and  grounds 
of  this  conviction.  It  is  with  the  fact  alone  that  we  are  con- 
cerned at  present ; and  this  I conceive  to  be  one  of  the  most 
obviously  inconti’ovei'tible  which  the  circle  of  our  knowledge 
embraces.  Let  those  explain  it  as  they  best  can,  who  are  of 
opinion,  that  all  the  judgments  of  the  human  understanding 
rest  ultimately  on  observation  and  experience. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  case  in  which  the  mind  forms  conclusions 
concerning  space,  to  which  those  of  the  natural  philosopher  do 
not  bear  the  remotest  analogy.  Is  it  from  experience  we  learn 
that  space  is  infinite  ? or,  to  express  myself  in  more  unexcep- 
tionable terms,  that  no  limits  can  be  assigned  to  its  immensity  1 
Here  is  a fact,  extending  not  only  beyond  the  reach  of  our  per- 
sonal observation,  but  beyond  the  observation  of  all  created 
beings ; and  a fact  on  which  we  pronounce  with  no  less  confi- 
dence, when  in  imagination  we  transport  ourselves  to  the  utmost 
verge  of  the  material  universe,  than  when  we  confine  our 
thoughts  to  those  regions  of  the  globe  which  have  been  exploited 
by  travellers.  How  unlike  those  general  laws  which  we  inves- 
tigate in  physics,  and  which,  how  far  soever  we  may  find  them 
to  reach,  may  still,  for  any  thing  we  are  able  to  discover  to  the 
contrary,  be  only  contingent,  local,  and  temporary.* 


* [Mr.  J.  S.  Mill  is  the  latest  writer  of  authority  who  has  maintained 
the  doctrine  of  Beddoes  and  Leslie,  that  even  pure  mathematics  is  an 
inductive  science,  and  depends  ultimately  on  external  observation.  The 
following  is  a summary  of  his  argument  upon  this  point,  though  it  deserves 
notice  only  as  the  attempt  of  a very  acute  reasoner  to  support  a thesis 
which  is  wholly  indefensible.  Only  a love  of  paradox,  or  the  bias  of  a 
previously  conceived  theory,  could  induce  any  one  to  controvert  the  doc- 
trine of  Mr.  Stewart  in  the  text,  which  expresses  the  almost  unanimous 
opinion  of  the  scientific  world. 

But  Mr.  Mill  avers  that  geometrical  axioms  “are  experimental  axioms 

— generalizations  from  observation.  The  proposition,  ‘ Tveo  straight  lines 
cannot  inclose  a space’  — or  in  other  words,  ‘ Two  straight  lines  which 
have  once  met,  do  not  meet  again,  but  continue  to  diverge’ — is  an  induc- 
tion from  the  evidence  of  our  senses.” 

- AVhen  it  is  urged  that  actual  observation  is  not  needed  to  convince  us 

08  * 


450 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


It  must  indeed  be  owned,  with  respect  to  the  conclusions 
hitherto  mentioned  on  the  subject  of  space,  that  they  are  rather 
of  a metaphysical,  than  of  a mathematical  nature  ; but  /they 
are  net,  on  that  account,  the  less  applicable  to  our  purpose ; for 
if  the  theory  of  Beddoes  had  any  foundation,  it  would  lead  us 
to  identify  with  physics  the  former  of  these  sciences  as  well  as 
the  latter ; at  least,  all  that  part  of  the  former  which  is  em- 
ployed about  space  or  extension,  — a favorite  object  of  meta- 
physical as  well  as  of  mathematical  speculation.  The  truth, 
however,  is,  that  some  of  our  metaphysical  conclusions  concern- 


of  tlie  truth  of  this  axiom,  hut  that  our  assent  is  given  merely  by  thinking 
of  it,  or  as  soon  as  we  understand  the  meaning  of  the  words,  he  answers, 
“ one  of  the  characteristic  properties  of  geometrical  forms  is  their  capacity 
of  being  painted  in  the  imagination  with  a distinctness  equal  to  reality.” 
These  mental  pictures  are  “just  as  fit  subjects  of  geometrical  experimen- 
tation as  the  realities  themselves.”  “ The  foundations  of  geometry  would 
tliercfore  be  laid  in  direct  experience,  even  if  the  experiments,  (which  in 
tliis  case  consist  merely  in  attentive  contemplation)  were  practised  solely 
upon  what  we  call  our  ideas,  — that  is,  upon  the  diagrams  in  our  minds, 
and  not  upon  outward  objects.” 

But  we  declare  that  the  lines  could  not  meet  even  if  they  were  prolonged 
to  infinity,  — a fact  which  cannot  be  proved  by  actual  observation,  be- 
cause we  cannot  follow  them  to  infinity.  Mr.  Mill  replies,  that,  without 
so  following  them,  “ we  may  know  that,  if  they  ever  do  meet,  or  indeed 
if,  after  diverging  from  one  another,  they  begin  _ again  to  approach,  this 
must  take  place,  not  at  an  infinite,  but  at  a finite  distance.  Supposing, 
therefore,  such  to  be  the  case,  we  can  transport  ourselves  thither  in  imag- 
ination, and  can  frame  a mental  image  of  the  appearance  which  one  or 
both  of  the  lines  must  present  at  that  point,  which  we  may  rely  upon  as 
being  precisely  similar  to  the  reality.  Now,  whether  we  fix  our  contem- 
plation upon  this  imaginary  picture,  or  call  to  mind  the  generalizations  we 
have  had  occasion  to  make  from  former  ocular  observation,  we  shall  either 
way  be  equally  satisfied,  that  a line  which,  after  diverging  from  another 
straight  line,  begins  to  approach  to  it,  produces  the  impression  on  our 
senses  which  we  describe  by  the  expression  ‘ a bent  line,’  not  by  the  ex- 
pression, ‘ a straight  line.’  ” 

The  first  argument  being  thus  disposed  of,  we  proceed  to  the  second. 
“ Axioms  (it  is  asserted)  are  conceived  by  us  not  only  as  true,  but  as  uni- 
versally and  necessarily  true.  Now  experience  cannot  possibly  give  to 
any  proposition  this  character.  I may  have  seen  snow  a hundred  times, 
and  may  have  seen  that  it  was  white ; but  this  cannot  give  me  entire 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


. 451 


ing  space  are  more  nearly  allied  to  geometrical  theorems  than  we 
might  he  disposed  at  Jirst  to  apprehend ; being  involved  or  im- 
plied in  the  most  simple  and  fundamental  propositions  which 
occur  in  Euclid’s  Elements.  When  it  is  asserted,  for  example, 
that  “ if  one  straight  line  falls  on  two  other  straight  lines,  so 
as  to  make  the  two  interior  angles  on  the  same  side  together 
equal  to  two  right  angles,  these  two  straight  lines,  though  indefi- 
nitely produced,  will  never  meet ; ” — is  not  the  boundless  hn- 
mensity  of  space  tacitly  assumed  as  a thing  unquestionable  ? 


"assurance  even  that  all  snow  is  white;  much  less,  that  snow  must  be 
white.” 

The  answer  to  this  argument  is  really  curious,  as  showing  the  writer’s 
incapacity  of  perceiving  the  distinction,  which  is  a fundamental  one,  be- 
tween necessary  and  contingent  truths.  “ I cannot  but  wonder,”  says  Mr. 
Mill,  “ that  so  much  stress  should  be  laid  upon  the  circumstance  of  incon- 
ccivablencss,  wlien  there  is  such  ample  experience  to  show,  that  our  cajjac- 
ity  or  incapacity  of  conceiving  a thing  has  very  little  to  do  with  the  possi- 
bility of  the  thing  in  itself ; but  is  in  truth  very  much  an  affair  of  accident, 
and  depends  upon  the  past  history  and  habits  of  our  own  minds.  There 
is  no  more  generally  acknowledged  fact  in  human  nature,  than  the  extreme 
difficulty  at  first  felt  in  conceiving  any  thing  as  possible,  which  is  in  contra- 
diction ' to  long  established  and  familiar  experience,  or  even  to  old  and 
familiar  habits  of  thought.”  “ There  are  remarkable  instances  of  this 
in  the  history  of  science ; instances  in  which  the  wisest  men  rejected  as 
impossible,  because  inconceivable,  things  which  their  posterity,  by  earlier 
practice  and  longer  perseverance  in  the  attempt,  found  it  quite  easy  to 
conceive,  and  which  everybody  now  knows  to  be  true.”  Mr.  Mill  pro- 
ceeds to  adduce,  as  such  instances,  the  fact  that  there  was  a time  when 
men  of  the  most  cultivated  intellects  could  not  credit  the  existence  of  anti- 
podes ; could  not  conceive  the  force  of  gr.avity  acting  upwards  ; or  that  a 
body  could  act  upon  the  earth  at  the  distance  of  the  sun  or  moon. 

The  inference  from  this  reasoning  seems  to  be,  that  there  is  no  projmsi- 
tion  now  regarded  as  a necessary  truth,  which  may  not,  at  some  future 
time,  come  to  be  generally  disbelieved.  In  the  future  progress  of  knowl- 
edge, he  seems  to  think  it  may  be  ascertained  that  the  three  angles  of  a 
plane  triangle  are  not  equal  to  two  right  angles  ! It  is  certainly  not  impos- 
sible that  the  sun  may  not  rise  to-moiTow  ; we  can  easily  conceive  that  it 
may  not ; though  it  is  a fact  attested  by  universal  experience,  that,  to 
every  place  in  the  torrid  and  temperate  zones,  the  sun  has  risen  once 
in  every  twenty-four  hours.  Yet  who  does  not  perceive  the  difference, 
in  point  of  logical  certainty,  between  the  proposition  that  the  sun  will  rise 
to-morrow,  and  the  axiom  that  two  straight  lines  cannot  inclose  a space  t ' 


452  - 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


And  is  not  a universal  affirmation  made  with  respect  to  a fact 
loliich  experience  is  equally  incompetent  to  disprove  or  to  confirm  ? 
In  like  manner,  when  it  is  said,  that  “ triangles  on  the  same 
base,  and  between  the  same  parallels  are  equal,”  do  we  feel  our- 
selves the  less  ready  to  give  our  assent  to  the  demonstration,  if 
it  should  be  supposed,  that  the  one  triangle  is  confined  within 
the  limits  of  the  paper  before  us,  and  that  the  other,  standing 
on  the  same  base,  has  its  vertex  placed  beyond  the  sphere  of 
the  fixed  stars  ? In  various  instances,  we  are  led,  with  a force 
equally  imperious,  to  acquiesce  in  conclusions,  which  not  only 
admit  of  no  illustration  or  proof  from  the  perceptions  of  sense, 
but  which,  at  first  sight,  are  apt  to  stagger  and  confound  the 
faculty  of  imagination.  It  is  sufficient  to  mention,  as  examples 
of  this,  the  relation  between  the  hyperbola  and  its  asymptotes, 
[which  are  constantly  approaching  each  other,  and  yet  will  not 
meet  till  they  are  extended  to  infinity]  ; and  the  still  more  ob- 
vious truth  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  extension.  What  anal- 
ogy is  there  between  such  propositions  as  these,  and  that  which 
announces,  that  the  mercury  in  the  Torricellian  tube  will  fall, 
if  carried  up  to  the  top  of  a mountain ; or  that  the  vibrations 
of  a pendulum  of  a given  length  will  be  performed  in  the  same 
time,  while  it  remains  in  the  same  latitude?  Were  there,  in 
reality,  that  analogy  between  mathematical  and  physical  prop- 
ositions, which  Beddoes  and  his  followers  have  fancied,  the 
equality  of  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  of  a right  angled  tri- 
angle to  the  squares  described  on  the  two  other  sides,  and  the 
proportion  of  1,  2,  3,  between  the  cone  and  its  circumscribed 
hemisphere  and  cylinder,  might,  with  fully  as  great  propriety, 
be  considered  in  the  light  of  physical  phenomena,  as  of  geomet- 
rical theorems.  Nor  would  it  have  been  at  all  inconsistent  with 
the  logical  unity  of  his  work,  if  Mr.  Leslie  had  annexed  to  his 
Elements  of  Geometry,  a scholium  concerning  the  final  causes 
of  circles  and  of  straight  lines,  similar  to  that  which,  with  such 
sublime  effect,  closes  the  Principia  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton.* 


* In  the  course  of  my  own  experience,  I have  met  with  one  person,  of 
no  common  ingenuity,  who  seemed  seriously  disposed  to  consider  the 
truths  of  geometry  very  nearly  in  this  light.  The  person  I allude  to  was 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


453 


2.  The  geometer’s  superposition  of  triangles  is  ideal,  and  not 
actual.  — It  yet  remains  for  me  to  say  a few  words  upon  that 
superposition  of  triangles,  which  is  the  groundwork  of  all  our 
geometrical  reasonings  concerning  the  relations  which  different 
species  bear  to  one  another  in  respect  of  magnitude.  And  here 
I must  take  the  liberty  to  remark,  in  the  first  place,  that  the 
fact  in  question  has  been  stated  in  terms  much  too  loose  and 
incorrect  for  a logical  argument.  When  it  is  said,  that  “ all  the 


James  I'erguson,  author  of  the  justly  popular  works  on  Astronomy  and 
Mechanics.  In  the  year  1768,  he  paid  a visit  to  Edinburgh,  when  I had 
not  only  an  opportunity  of  attending  his  public  course  of  lectures,  but  of 
frequently  enjoying,  in  private,  the  pleasure  of  his  very  interesting  conver- 
sation. I remember  distinctly  to  hare  heard  him  say,  that  he  had  more 
than  once  attempted  to  study  the  Elements  of  Euclid ; but  found  himself 
quite  unable  to  enter  into  that  species  of  reasoning.  The  second  proposi- 
tion of  the  first  book  he  mentioned  particularly,  as  one  of  his  stumbling' 
blocks  at  the  very  outset ; — the  circuitous  process  by  which  Euclid  sets 
about  an  operation  which  never  could  puzzle,  for  a single  moment,  any 
man  who  had  seen  a pair  of  compasses,  appearing  to  him  altogether  capri- 
cious and  ludicrous.  He  added,  at  the  same  time,  that  as  there  were  vari- 
ous geometrical  theorems  of  which  he  had  daily  occasion  to  make  use,  he 
had  satisfied  himself  of  their  truth,  either  by  means  of  his  compasses  and 
scale,  or  by  some  mechanical  contrivances  of  his  own  invention.  Of  one 
of  these  I have  still  a perfect  recollection ; — his  mechanical  or  experi- 
mental demonstration  of  the  47th  proposition  of  Euclid’s  first  hook,  by 
cutting  a card  so  as  to  afford  an  ocular  proof,  that  the  squares  of  the  two 
sides  actually  filled  the  same  space  with  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse. 

To  those  who  reflect  on  the  disadvantages  under  which  Mr,  Ferguson 
had  labored  in  point  of  education,  and  on  the  early  and  exclusive  hold 
which  experimental  science  had  taken  of  his  mind,  it  will  not  perhaps 
seem  altogether  unaccountable,  that  the  refined  and  scrupulous  logic  of 
Euclid  should  have  struck  him  as  tedious,  and  even  unsatisfactory,  in 
comparison  of  that  more  summary  and  palpable  evidence  on  which  his 
judgment  was  accustomed  to  rest. 

“Mr.  Ferguson’s  general  mathematical  knowledge,”  says  Dr.  Hutton, 
“ was  little  or  nothing.  Of  algebra,  he  understood  little  more  than  the 
notation ; and  he  has  often  told  me  he  could  never  demonstrate  one  pro- 
position in  Euclid’s  Elements ; his  constant  method  being  to  satisfy  him- 
self, as  to  the  truth  of  any  problem,  with  a measurement  by  scale  and 
compasses.”  — Hutton’s  Mathematical  and  Philosophical  Dictionary,  article 
Feryuson. 


454 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


fundamental  theorems  which  relate  to  the  comparison  of  trian- 
gles, derive  their  evidence  from  the  mere  superposition  of  the 
triangles  themselves,”  it  seems  difficult,  or  rather  impossible,  to 
annex  to  the  adjective  wiere,  an  idea  at  all  different  from  what 
would  be  conveyed,  if  the  word  actual  were  to  be  substituted  in 
its  place  ; more  especially,  when  we  attend  to  the  assertion 
which  immediately  follows,  that  “ this  mode  of  proof  is,  in  real- 
ity, nothing  but  an  ultimate  appeal,  though  of  the  easiest  and 
most  familiar  kind,  to  external  observation.”  But  if  this  be,  in 
truth,  the  sense  in  which  we  are  to  interpret  the  statement 
quoted  above,  (and  I cannot  conceive  any  other  interpretation 
of  which  it  admits,)  it  must  appear  obvious,  upon  the  slightest 
reflection,  that  the  statement  proceeds  upon  a total  misappre- 
hension of  the  principle  of  superposition ; inasmuch  as  it  is  not 
to  an  actual  or  mere  superpositio7i,  but  to  an  imaginary  or  ideal 
one,  that  any  appeal  is  ever  made  by  the  geometer.  Between 
these  two  modes  of  proof  the  difference  is  not  only  wide,  but 
radical  and  essential.  The  one  would,  indeed,  level  geometry 
with  ph3’’sics,  in  point  of  evidence,  by  building  the  whole  of  its 
reasoning  on  a fact  ascertained  by  mechanical  measurement ; 
the  other  is  addressed  to  the  understanding,  and  to  the  under- 
standing alone,  and  is  as  rigorously  conclusive  as  it  is  possible 
for  demonstration  to  be.* 


* The  same  remark  was,  more  than  fifty  years  ago,  made  by  D’Alem- 
bert, in  reply  to  some  mathematicians  on  the  Continent,  who,  it  would 
appear,  had  then  adopted  a paradox  very  nearly  approaching  to  that 
which  I am  now  combating.  “Le  principe  de  la  superposition  n’est  point, 
comme  font  pre'tendu  plusieurs  ge'ometres,  une  methode  de  demontrer 
peu  exacte  et  purement  mecanique.  La  superposition,  telle  que  les  math- 
ematiciens  la  con^oivent,  ne  consiste  pas  a apnliquer  grossierement  une 
figure  sur  une  autre,  pour  juger  par  les  yeux  de  leur  dgalite  ou  de  leur 
difference,  comme  un  ouvrier  applique  son  pie  sur  une  ligne  pour  la 
mesurer;  clle  consiste  a imaginer  une  figure  transporte'e  sur  une  autre,  et 
a conclure  de  1’  egalite  supposee  de  certaines  parties  de  deux  figures,  la 
coincidence  de  ces  parties  entr’cHes,  et  de  leur  coincidence  la  coincidence 
du  reste : d’oii  resulte  I’egalite  et  la  similitude  parfaites  des  figures  en- 
tiferes.” 

[“  The  principle  of  superposition  is  not,  as  many  geometers  have  sup- 


REASOXING  AXD  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE.  4d5 

That  the  reasoning  employed  by  Euclid  in  proof  of  the  fourth 
proposition  of  his  first  book  is  completely  demonstrative,  will 
be  readily  granted  by  those  who  compare  its  different  steps 
with  the  conclusions  to  which  we  were  formerly  led,  when  treat- 
ing of  the  nature  of  mathematical  demonstration.  In  none  of 
these  steps  is  any  appeal  made  to  facts  resting  on  the  evidence 
of  sense,  nor,  indeed,  to  any  facts  whatever.  The  constant  ap- 
peal is  to  the  definition  of  equality.* *  “ Let  the  triangle  A B 
C,”  says  Euclid,  “ be  applied  to  the  triangle  D E F ; the  point 
A to  the  point  D,  and  the  straight  line  A B to  the  straight  line 
D E ; the  point  B will  coincide  with  the  point  E,  because  A B 
is  equal  to  D E.  And  A B coinciding  with  D E,  A C will 
coincide  with  D F,  because  the  angle  B A C is  equal  to  the 
angle  E D F.”  A similar  remark  will  be  found  to  apply  to 
every  remaining  step  of  the  reasoning;  and,  therefore,  this 
reasoning  possesses  the  peculiar  characteristic  which  distin- 
guishes mathematical  evidence  from  that  of  all  the  other  sci- 


posed,  an  inexact  and  purely  mechanical  mode  of  demonstration.  Super- 
position in  mathematics  does  not  consist  in  applying  one  figure  to  the 
other,  in  order  to  judge  by  the  eye  whether  they  differ  or  coincide,  just  as 
a workman  applies  his  foot-rule  to  a line  in  order  to  measure  it ; it  con- 
sists in  imagining  one  figure  placed  over  the  other,  and  concluding,  from 
the  supposed  equality  of  certain  parts  of  the  two  figures,  the  coincidence 
of  these  parts  with  each  other,  and  from  their  coincidence  inferring  the 
coincidence  of  the  other  parts  ; whence  results  the  perfect  equality  and 
similitude  of  the  whole  figures.”] 

About  a century  before  tlie  time  when  D’Alembert  wrote  these  observa- 
tions, a similar  view  of.  the  subject  was  taken  by  Dr.  Barrow ; a writor 
who,  like  D’Alembert,  added  to  the  skill  and  originality  of  an  inventive 
mathematician,  the  most  refined,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  justest  ideas 
concerning  the  theory  of  those  intellectual  processes  which  are  subservient 
to  mathematical  reasoning. 

* It  was  before  observed,  that  Euclid’s  eighth  axiom  (magnitudes  which 
coincide  with  each  other  are  equal)  ought,  in  point  of  logical  rigor,  to 
have  been  stated  in  the  form  of  a definition.  In  our  present  araRiment, 
however.  It  is  not  of  material  consequence  whether  this  criticism  be 
adopted  or  not.  Whether  we  consider  the  proposition  in  question  in  the 
light  of  an  axiom  or  of  a definition,  it  is  equally  evident,  that  it  does  not 
express  a fact  ascertained  by  observation  or  by  experiment. 


4o6 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


ences,  — that  it  rests  -wholly  on  hypotheses  and  definitions,  and 
in  no  respect  upon  any  statement  of  facts,  true  or  false.  The 
ideas,  indeed,  of  extension,  of  a triangle,  and  of  equality,  pre- 
suppose the  exercise  of  our  senses.  Nay,  the  very  idea  of 
superposition  involves  that  of  motion,  and  consequently  (as  the 
parts  of  space  are  immovable)  of  a material  triangle.  But 
where  is  there  any  thing  analogous,  in  all  this,  to  those  sensible 
facts,  which  are  the  principles  of  our  reasoning  in  physics ; 
and  which,  according  as  they  have  been  accurately  or  inaccu- 
rately ascertained,  determine  the  accuracy  or  inaccuracy  of  our 
conclusions  ? The  material  triangle  itself,  as  conceived  by  the 
mathematician,  is  the  object,  not  of  sense,  but  of  intellect.  It  is 
not  an  actual  measure,  liable  to  expansion  or  contraction,  from 
the  infiuence  of  heat  or  of  cold ; nor  does  it  require,  in  the  ideal 
use  which  is  made  of  it  by  the  student,  the  slightest  address  of 
hand  or  nicety  of  eye.  Even  in  explaining  this  demonstration 
for  the  first  time  to  a pupil,  how  slender  soever  his  capacity 
miglit  be,  I do  not  believe  that  any  teacher  ever  thought  of 
illustrating  its  meaning  by  the  actual  application  of  the  one  tri- 
angle to  the  other.  No  teacher,  at  least,  would  do  so,  who  had 
formed  correct  notions  of  the  nature  of  mathematical  science. 

If  the  justness  of  these  remarks  be  admitted,  the  demonstra- 
tion in  question  must  be  allowed  to  be  as  well  entitled  to  the 
name,  as  any  other  which  the  mathematician  can  produce ; for 
as  our  conclusions  relative  to  the  properties  of  the  circle,  con- 
sidered in  the  light  of  hypothetical  theorems,  are  not  the  less 
rigorously  and  necessarily  true,  that  no  material  circle  may  any- 
where exists  corresponding  exactly  to  the  definition  of  that 
figure,  so  the  proof  given  by  Euclid  of  the  fourth  proposition 
would  not  be  the  less  demonstrative,  although  our  senses  were 
incomparably  less  acute  than  they  are,  and  although  no  material 
triangle  continued  of  the  same  magnitude  for  a single  instant. 
Indeed,  when  we  have  once  acquired  the  ideas  of  equality  and 
of  a common  measure,  our  mathematical  conclusions  would  not 
be  in  the  least  affected,  if  all  the  bodies  in  the  universe  should 
vanish  into  nothing. 

IV.  Of  our  reasonings  concerning  probable  or 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


457 


CONTINGENT  TRUTHS.  1.  Narrow  field  of  demonstrative  evi- 
dence. — If  the  account  which  has  been  given  of  the  nature  of 
demonstrative  ^evidence  be  admitted,  the  province  over  which  it 
extends  must  be  limited  almost  entirely  to  the  objects  of  pure 
mathematics.  A science  perfectly  analogous  to  this,  in  point 
of  evidence,  may,  indeed,  be  conceived,  as  I have  already  re- 
marked, to  consist  of  a series  of  propositions  relating  to  moral, 
to  political,  or  to  physical  subjects ; but  as  it  could  answer  no 
other  purpose  than  to  display  the  ingenuity  of  the  inventor, 
hardly  any  thing  of  the  kind  has  been  hitherto  attempted. 
The  only  exception  wdiich  I can  think  of,  occurs  in  the  specu- 
lations formerly  mentioned  under  the  title  of  theoretical  me- 
chanics. 

On  the  application  of  mathematics  in  practical  geometry  and 
physics.  — But  if  the  field  of  mathematical  demonstration  be 
limited  entirely  to  hypothetical  or  conditional  truths,  whence,  it 
may  be  asked,  arises  the  extensive  and  the  various  utility  of 
mathematical  knowledge  in  our  physical  researches,  and  in  the 
arts  of  life?  The  answmr,  I apprehend,  is  to  be  found  in  cer- 
tain peculiarities  of  those  objects  to  which  the  suppositions  of 
the  mathematician  ai-e  confined  ; in  consequence  of  which  pecu- 
liarities, real  combinations  of  circumstances  may  fall  under  the 
examination  of  our  senses,  approximating  far  more  nearly  to 
what  his  definitions  describe,  than  is  to  be  expected  in  any  other 
theoretical  process  of  the  human  mind.  Hence  a correspond- 
ing coincidence  between  his  abstract  conclusions,  and  those  facts 
in  practical  geometry  and  in  physics  which  they  help  him  to 
ascertain. 

For  the  more  complete  illustration  of  this  subject,  it  may  be 
observed  in  the  first  place,  that  although  the  peculiar  force  of 
that  reasoning  which  is  properly  called  mathematical,  depends 
on  the  circumstance  of  its  principles  being  hypothetical,  yet  if, 
in  any  instance,  the  supposition  could  be  ascertained  as  actually 
existing,  the  conclusion  might,  with  the  very  same  certainty,  be 
applied.  If  I were  satisfied,  for  example,  that  in  a particular 
circle  drawn  on  paper,  all  the  radii  were  exactly  equal,  every 
property  which  Euclid  has  demonstrated  of  that  curve,  might 

39 


458 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


be  confidently  affirmed  to  belong  to  this  diagram.  As  the  thing, 
however,  here  supposed,  is  rendered  impossible  by  the  imper- 
fection of  our  senses,  the  truths  of  geometry  can  never,  in  their 
practical  applications,  possess  demonstrative  evidence ; but  only 
that  kind  of  evidence  which  our  organs  of  perception  enable  us 
to  obtain. 

But  although,  in  the  practical  applications  of  mathematics,  the 
evidence  of  our  conclusions  differs  essentially  from  that  which 
belongs  to  the  truths  investigated  in  the  theory,  it  does  not 
therefore  follow  that  these  conclusions  are  the  less  important. 
In  proportion  to  the  accuracy  of  our  data  will  he  that  of  all  our 
subsequent  deductions  ; and  it  fortunately  happens,  that  the  same 
imperfections  of  sense  which  limit  what  is  physically  attainable 
in  the  former,  limit  also,  to  the  very  same  extent,  what  is  prac- 
tically useful  in  the  latter.  The  astonishing  precision  which 
the  mechanical  ingenuity  of  modern  times  has  given  to  mathe- 
matical instruments,  has,  in  fact,  communicated  a nicety  to  the 
results  of  practical  geometry,  beyond  the  ordinary  demands  of 
human  life,  and  far  beyond  the  most  sanguine  anticipations  of 
our  forefathers.* 


* See  a very  interesting  and  able  article,  in  the  fifth  volume  of  the 
Edinburgh  Review,  on  Colonel  Mudge’s  account  of  the  operations  car- 
ried on  for  accomplishing  a trigonometrical  survey  of  England  and  Wales. 
I cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  quoting  a few  sentences. 

“ In  two  distances  that  were  deduced  from  sots  of  triangles,  the  one 
measured  by  General  Roy  in  1787,  the  other  by  Major  Mudge  in  1794, 
one  of  24,133  miles,  and  the  other  of  38,688,  the  two  measures  agreed 
within  a foot  as  to  the  first  distance,  and  sixteen  inches  as  to  the  second. 
Such  an  agreement,  where  the  observers  and  the  instruments  were  both 
different,  wliere  the  lines  measured  were  of  such  extent,  and  deduced 
from  sucli  a variety  of  data,  is  probably  without  any  other  example. 
Coincidences  of  this  sort  are  frequent  in  the  trigonometrical  survey,  and 
prove  how  much  more  good  instruments,  used  by  skilful  and  attentive 
observers,  are  capable  of  performing,  than  the  most  sanguine  theorist 
could  have  ever  ventured  to  foretell. 

“ It  is  curious  to  compare  the  early  essays  of  practical  geometry  with 
the  perfections  to  which  its  operations  have  now  reached,  and  to  consider 
that,  while  the  artist  had  made  so  little  progress,  the  theorist  had  reached 


REASO^;I^JG  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


459 


This  remarkable,  and  indeed  singular  coincidence  of  propo- 
sitions purely  hypothetical,  ivith  facts  ivhich  fall  under  the 
examination  of  our  senses,  is  owing,  as  I already  hinted,  to  the 
peculiar  nature  of  the  objects  about  which  mathematics  is  con- 
versant ; and  to  the  opportunity  which  we  have  (in  consequence 
of  that  mensurability,* *  which  belongs  to  all  of  them)  of  adjust- 
ing, with  a degree  of  accuracy  approximating  nearly  to  the 
truth,  the  data  from  which  we  are  to  reason  in  our  practical 
operations,  to  those  which  are  assumed  in  our  theory.  The 
only  affections  of  matter  which  these  objects  comprehend  are 
extension  and  figure  ; affections  which  matter  possesses  in  com- 
mon with  space,  and  which  may  therefore  be  separated  in  fact, 
as  well  as  abstracted  in  thought,  from  all  its  other  sensible  qual- 
ities. In  examining,  accordingly,  the  relations  of  quantity  con- 


many  of  the  sublimest  heights  of  mathematical  speculation  ; that  the  lat 
ter  had  found  out  the  area  of  the  circle,  and  calculated  its  circumference 
to  more  than  a hundred  places  of  decimals,  when  the  former  could  hardly 
divide  an  arc  into  minutes  of  a degree  : and  that  many  excellent  treatises 
had  been  written  on  the  properties  of  curve  lines,  before  a straight  line 
of  considerable  length  had  ever  been  carefully  drawn,  or  exactly  meas- 
ured on  the  surface  of  the  earth.” 

* In  an  Essay  on  Quantity,  by  Dr.  Reid,  published  in  the  transactions 
of  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  for  the  year  1748,  mathematics  is  very 
correctly  defined  to  he  “ the  doctrine  of  measure.”  “ The  object  of  this 
science,”  the  author  observes,  “ is  commonly  said  to  he  quantity  ; in  which 
case,  quantity  ought  to  be  defined,  what  may  be  measured.  Those  who 
have  defined  quantity  to  be  whatever  is  capable  of  more  or  less,  hav^e  giv^en 
too  wide  a notion  of  it,  which  has  led  some  persons  to  apply  mathematical 
reasoning  to  subjects  that  do  not  admit  of  it.”  The  appropriate  objects  of 
this  science  are  therefore  such  things  alone  as  admit,  not  only  of  being  in- 
creased and  diminished,  but  of  being  multiplied  and  divided.  In  other 
words,  the  common  quality  which  characterizes  all  of  them  is  their  men- 
surahilitg. 

In  the  same  essay.  Dr.  Reid  has  illustrated,  with  much  ingenuity,  a dis- 
tinction (hinted  at  by  Aristotle)  of  quantity  into  proper  and  improper. 
“I  call  that,”  says  he,  “proper  quantity,  which  is  measured  by  its  own  kind; 
or  which,  of  its  own  nature,  is  capable  of  being  doubled  or  trebled,  with- 
out taking  in  any  quantity  of  a different  kind  as  a measure  of  it.  Thus  a 
hne  is  measured  by  known  lines,  as  inches,  feet,  or  miles ; and  the  length 
of  a foot  being  known,  there  can  be  no  question  about  the  length  of  two 


4G0 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


nected  with  these  affections,  we  are  not  liable  to  he  disturbed 
by  those  phj^sical  accidents,  Avhich,  in  the  other  applications  of 
mathematical  science,  necessarily  render  the  result  more  or 
less  at  variance  with  the  theory.  In  measuring  the  height  of  a 
mountain,  or  in  the  survey  of  a country,  if  we  are  at  due  pains 
in  ascertaining  our  data,  and  if  we  reason  from  them  with  math- 
ematical strictness,  the  result  may  be  dejiended  on  as  accui’ate 
within  very  narrow  limits ; and  as  there  is  nothing  but  the  in- 
correctness of  our  data  by  which  the  result  can  be  vitiated,  the 
limits  of  possible  error  may  themselves  be  assigned.  But  in 
the  simplest  applications  of  mathematics  to  mechanics  or  to 
physics,  the  abstractions  which  are  necessary  in  the  theory,  must 
always  leave  out  circumstances  which  are  essentially  connected 
with  the  effect.  In  demonstrating,  for  example,  the  property 
of  the  lever,  we  abstract  entirely  from  its  own  weight,  and  con- 
sider it  as  an  inflexible  mathematical  line ; — sujipositions  with 
which  the  fact  cannot  possibly  correspond ; and  for  which,  of 
course,  allowances  (which  nothing  but  physical  experience  can 
enable  us  to  judge  of)  must  be  made  in  practice. 

Next  to  practical  geometry,  properly  so  called,  one  of  the 


feet,  or  of  any  part  or  multiple  of  a foot.  This  known  length,  by  being 
multiplied  or  divided,  is  sufScient  to  give  us  a distinct  idea  of  any  length 
whatsoever. 

“ Improper  quantity  is  that  which  cannot  be  measured  by  its  own  kind,  but  to 
which  we  assign  a measure  in  some  proper  quantity  that  is  related  to  it. 
Thus  velocity  of  motion,  when  we  consider  it  by  itself,  cannot  be  measured. 
We  may  perceive  one  body  to  move  faster,  another  slower,  but  we  can  per- 
ceive no  proportion  or  ratio  between  their  velocities,  without  taking  in 
some  quantity  of  another  kind  to  measure  them  by.  Having  tlicrefore 
observed,  that  by  a greater  velocity,  a greater  space  is  passed  over  in  the 
same  time,  by  a less  velocity  a less  space,  and  by  an  equal  velocity  an 
equal  space  ; we  hence  learn  to  measure  velocity  by  the  space  passed  over  in 
a given  time,  and  to  reckon  it  to  be  in  exact  proportion  to  that ; and  hav- 
ing once  assigned  this  measure  to  it,  we  can  then,  and  not  till  then,  con- 
ceive one  velocity  exactly  double,  or  triple,  or  in  any  proportion  to  another. 
We  can  then  introduce  it  into  mathematical  reasoning,  without  danger  of 
error  or  confusion ; and  may  use  it  as  a measure  of  other  improper 
quantities.” 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


4G1 


easiest  applications  of  matliematical  theory  occurs  in  those 
branches  of  o'ptics  which  are  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
catoptrics  and  dioptrics.  In  these,  the  physical  principles  from 
which  we  reason  are  few  and  precisely  definite,  and  the  rest 
of  the  process  is  as  purely  geometrical  as  the  Elements  of 
Euclid. 

In  that  part  of  astronomy,  too,  which  relates  solely  to  the 
phenomena,  without  any  consideration  of  physical  causes,  our 
reasonings  are  purely  geometrical.  The  data,  indeed,  on  which 
we  proceed,  must  have  been  previously  ascertained  by  observa- 
tion ; but  the  inferences  we  draw  from  these  are  connected  with 
them  by  mathematical  demonstration,  and  are  accessible  to  all 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  theory  of  spherics. 

In  physical  astronomy,  the  law  of  gravitation  becomes  also  a 
principle  or  datum  in  our  reasonings ; but,  as  in  the  celestial 
phenomena  it  is  disengaged  from  the  effects  of  the  various 
other  causes  which  are  combined  with  it  near  the  surface  of  our 
planet,  this  branch  of  physics,  as  it  is  of  all  the  most  sublime 
and  comprehensive  in  its  objects,  so  it  seems,  in  a greater 
degree  than  any  other,  to  open  a fair  and  advantageous  field  for 
mathematical  ingenuity. 

On  the  fundamental  law  of  belief  involved  in  all  our  reason- 
ings about  contingent  truths.  — In  the  instances  which  have 
been  last  mentioned,  the  evidence  of  our  conclusions  resolves 
ultimately  not  only  into  that  of  sense,  but  into  another  law  of 
belief  formerly  mentioned ; that  which  leads  us  to  expect  the 
continuance,  in  future,  of  the  established  order  of  physical  phe- 
nomena. A very  striking  illustration  of  this  presents  itself  in 
the  computations  of  the  astronomer ; on  the  faith  of  which  he 
predicts,  with  the  most  perfect  assurance,  many  centuries  before 
they  happen,  the  appearances  which  the  heavenly  bodies  are  to 
exhibit.  The  same  fact  is  assumed  in  all  our  conclusions  in 
natural  philosophy ; and  something  extremely  analogous  to  it 
in  all  our  conclusions  concerning  human  affairs.  They  relate, 
in  both  cases,  not  to  necessary  connections,  but  to  probable  or 
contingent  events ; of  which,  how  confidently  soever  we  may 
expect  them  to  take  place,  the  failure  is  by  no  means  perceived 

39* 


4G2 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


to  be  impossible.  Such  conclusions,  therefore,  differ  essentially 
from  those  to  which  we  are  led  by  the  demonstrations  of  pure 
mathematics,  which  not  only  command  our  assent  to  the  theo- 
rems they  establish,  but  satisfy  us  that  the  contrary  suppositions 
are  absurd. 

These  examples  may  suffice  to  convey  a general  idea  of  the 
distinction  between  demonstrative  and  probable  evidence  ; and 
I purposely  borrowed  them  from  sciences  where  the  two  are 
brought  into  immediate  contrast  with  each  other,  and  where  the 
authority  of  both  has  hitherto  been  equally  undisputed. 

Before  prosecuting  any  further  the  subject  of  probable  evi- 
dence, some  attention  seems  to  be  due,  in  the  first  place,  to  the 
grounds  of  that  fundamental  supposition  on  which  it  proceeds,  — 
tlie  stability  of  the  order  of  nature.  Of  this  important  sub- 
ject, accordingly,  I propose  to  treat  at  some  length. 

2.  Of  the  ■permanence  or  stability  m the  order  of  nature, 
which  is  presupposed  in  our  reasonings  concerning  contingent 
truths.  — In  the  language  of  modern  science,' the  establislied 
order  in  the  succession  of  physical  events,  is  commonly  referred 
(by  a sort  of  figure  or  metaphor)  to  the  general  laws  of 
nature.*  It  is  a mode  of  speaking  extremely  convenient  from 
its  conciseness,  but  is  apt  to  suggest  to  the  fancy  a groundless, 
and,  indeed,  absurd  analogy  between  the  material  and  the 
moral  worlds.  As  the  order  of  society  results  from  the  laws 
presciibed  by  the  legislator,  so  the  order  of  the  universe  is 
conceived  to  result  from  certain  laws  established  by  the  Deity. 
Tims,  it  is  customary  to  say,  that  the  fall  of  heavy  bodies  to- 
wards the  earth’s  surface,  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  sea, 
and  the  motions  of  the  planets  in  their  orbits,  are  consequences 
of  the  law  of  gravitation.  But  altliough,  in  one  sense,  this 
may  be  abundantly  accurate,  it  ought  always  to  be  kept  in 
view,  that  it  is  not  a literal,  but  a metaphorical,  statement  of  the 
truth  ; a statement  somewhat  analogous  to  that  poetical  expres- 
sion in  the  sacred  writings,  in  which  God  is  said  “ to  have 
given  his  decree  to  the  seas,  that  they  should  not  pass  his  com- 


* [See  note  to  page  6.] 


KEASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  ETIDENCE. 


4G3 


miindment.”  In  those  political  associations  from  -wliicli  the 
metaplior  is  borrowed,  the  laws  are  addressed  to  rational  and 
voluntary  agents,  who  are  able  to  comprehend  their  meaning, 
and  to  regulate  their  conduct  accordingly ; whereas,  in  the 
material  universe,  the  subjects  of  our  observation  are  under- 
stood by  all  men  to  he  unconscious  and  passive,  (that  is,  are  un- 
derstood to  be  unchangeable  in  their  state,  without- the  influence 
of  some  foreign  and  external  force ;)  and  consequently,  the 
order  so  admirably  maintained,  amidst  all  the  various  changes 
which  they  actually  undergo,  not  only  implies  intelligence  in 
its  first  conception,  but  implies,  in  its  continued  existence,  the 
incessant  agency  of  power,  executing  the  purposes  of  wise 
design.  If  the  word  law,  therefore,  be,  in  such  instances,  lit- 
erally interpi’eted,  it  must  mean  a uniform  mode  of  operation 
prescribed  by  the  Deity  to  himself ; and  it  has  accordingly 
been  explained  in  this  sense  by  some  of  our  best  philosophical 
winters,  particularly  by  Dr.  Clarke.  In  employing,  however, 
the  word  with  an  exclusive  reference  to  experimental  philoso- 
phy, it  is  more  correctly  logical  to  consider  it  as  merely  a state- 
ment of  some  genercd  fact  with  respect  to  the  order  of  nature  ; 
a fact  which  has  been  found  to  hold  uniformly  in  our  past  expe- 
rience, and  on  the  continuance  of  which,  in  future,  the  constitu- 
tion of  our  mind  determines  us  confidently  to  rely. 

The  laics  of  nature  are  not  efficient  causes.  — After  what  has 
been  alreadj^  said,  it  is  hardly  necessarj^  to  take  notice  of  the 
absurdity  of  that  opinion,  or  rather  of  that  mode  of  speaking, 
Avhich  seems  to  refer  the  order  of  the  universe  to  general  laics 
operating  as  efficient  causes.*  Absurd,  however,  as  it  is,  there 


* [Those  who  have  not  reflected  much  upon  the  subject,  are  apt  to 
imagine  that  a phenomenon  is  accounted  for,  or  in  other  words,  that  its 
cause  is  discovered,  when  we  have  succeeded  in  referring  it  to  some  Law  of 
Nature  that  was  previously  known,  and  with  the  operation  of  which  we 
have  becohie  familiar.  Thus,  as  Franklin  discovered  that  the  lightning  is 
an  electrical  phenomenon,  — that  is,  that  it  manifests  the  same  appear- 
ances, and  is  followed  by  the  same  results,  that  attend  the  electricity  which 
is  developed  by  rubbing  a glass  tube,  — he  is  popularly  said  to  have  dis- 
covered the  cause  of  the  lightning.  But  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 


464 


EEASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


is  reason  to  suspect,  that  it  has,  with  many,  had  the  effect  of 
keeping  the  Deity  out  of  view,  while  they  were  studying  his 
works.  To  an  incautious  use  of  the  same  very  equivocal 
phrase,  may  he  traced  the  bewildering  obscurity  in  the  specula- 
tions of  some  eminent  Fren(;h  writers,  concerning  its  meta- 
physical import.  Even  the  great  Montesquieu,  in  the  very  first 
chapter  of  his  principal  woi’k,  has  lost  himself  in  a fruitless 
attempt  to  explain  its  meaning,  when,  by  a simple  statement  of 


cause  of  electricity  still  remains  to  be  ascertained.  All  that  Franklin  ac- 
complished was  to  refer  certain  phenomena,  which  had  hitherto  been  iso- 
lated, or  had  formed  a class  by  themselves,  to  a class  of  other  phenomena, 
wliich  seem  to  be  better  known  only  because  they  are  more  familiar  to  us, 
and  can  be  reproduced  at  pleasure. 

“ What  is  called  explaining  one  law  of  nature  by  another,”  says  Mr. 
Mill,  “is  but  substituting  one  mystery  for  another;  and  does  nothing  to 
render  the  general  course  of  nature  other  than  mysterious ; we  can  no 
more  assign  a wh/  for  the  more  extensive  laws  than  for  the  partial  ones. 
The  explanation  may  substitute  a mystery  which  has  become  familiar,  and 
has  grown  to  seem  not  mysterious,  for  one  which  is  still  strange.  And 
this  is  the  meaning  of  explanation,  in  common  parlance.  But  the  process 
with  which  we  are  here  concerned,  often  does  the  very  contrary ; it  resolves 
a phenomenon  with  which  we  are  familiar,  into  one  of  which  we  previously 
knew  little  or  nothing ; as  where  the  common  fact  of  the  fall  of  heavy 
bodies  is  resolved  into  a tendency  of  all  particles  of  matter  towards  one 
another.  It  must  be  kept  constantly  in  view,  therefore,  that  when  philoso- 
phers speak  of  explaining  any  of  the  phenomena  of  nature,  they  always 
mean,  pointing  out,  not  some  more  familiar,  but  merely  some  more  gen- 
eral, phenomenon  of  which  it  is  a partial  exemplification.” 

“ The  laws  thus  explained  or  resolved,  are  sometimes  said  to  be  ac- 
counted for ; but  the  expression  is  incorrect,  if  taken  to  mean  any  thing 
more  than  what  has  been  already  stated.  In  minds  not  habituated  to 
accurate  thinking,  there  is  often  a confused  notion  that  the  general  laws 
are  the  causes  of  the  partial  ones ; that  the  law  of  general  gravitation,  for 
example,  causes  the  phenomena  of  the  fall  of  bodies  to  the  earth.  But 
to  assert  this,  would  be  a misuse  of  the  word  cause;  terrestrial  gravity  is 
not  an  effect  of  general  gravitation,  but  a case  of  it ; that  is,  one  kind  of 
the  particular  instances  in  which  that  general  law  obtains.  To  account 
for  a law  of  nature  means,  and  can  mean,  no  more  than  to  assign  other 
law's  more  general,  together  with  collocations,  which  laws  and  collocations 
being  supposed,  the  partial  law  follows  without  any  additional  supposi- 
tion.”— Mill’s  Locjic,  pp.  276,  277.] 


REASONING  AND  DEDECTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


4Co 


the  essential  distinction  between  its  literal  and  its  metaphoricul 
acceptations,  he  might  have  at  once  cleared  up  the  mystery. 
After  telling  us  that  “ laws,  in  their  most  extensive  significa- 
tion, are  the  necessary  relations  (les  rapports  necessaires)  which 
arise  from  the  nature  of  things,  and  that,  in  this  sense,  all 
beings  have  their  laws ; — that  the  Deity  has  his  laws ; the 
material  world  its  laws ; intelligences  superior  to  man  their 
laws ; the  brutes  their  laws ; man  his  laws ; ” he  proceeds  to 
remark,  “ That  the  moral  world  is  far  from  being  so  well  gov- 
erned as  the  material ; for  the  former,  although  it  has  its  laws, 
which  are  invariable,  does  not  observe  these  laws  so  constantly 
as  the  latter.”  It  is  evident  that  this  remark  derives  whatever 
plausibility  it  possesses  from  a play  upon  words  ; from  confound- 
ing moral  laws  with  physical ; or,  in  plainer  terms,  from  con- 
founding laws  which  are  addressed  by  a legislator  to  intelligent 
beings,  with  those  general  conclusions  concerning  the  established 
irder  of  the  universe,  to  which,  Avhen  legitimately  inferred  from 
an  induction  sufficiently  extensive,  philosophers  have  metaphor- 
ically applied  the  title  of  Laics  of  Nature.  In  the  one  case, 
the  conformity  of  the  law  with  the  nature  of  things  does  not 
at  all  depend  on  its  being  observed  or  not,  but  on  the  reasonable- 
ness and  moral  obligation  of  the  law.  In  the  other  case,  the 
very  definition  of  the  word  law  supposes  that  it  applies  uni- 
versally; insomuch  if  it  failed  in  one  single  instance,  it 
woidd  cease  to  be  a law.  It  is,  therefore,  a mere  quibble  to  say, 
that  the  laws  of  the  material  world  are  better  observed  than 
those  of  the  moral ; the  meaning  of  the  word  law,  in  the  two 
cases  to  which  it  is  here  applied,  being  so  totally  different,  as  to 
render  the  comparison  or  contrast,  in  the  statement  of  which  it 
is  involved,  altogether  illusory  and  sophistical.  Indeed,  nothing 
more  is  necessary  to  strip  the  proposition  of  every  semblance 
of  plausibility,  but  an  attention  to  this  verbal  ambiguity. 

This  metaphorical  employment  of  the  word  law,  to  express  a 
general  fact,  although  it  does  not  appear  to  have  been  adopted 
in  the  technical  phraseology  of  ancient  philosojihy,  is  not  un- 
usual among  the  classical  writers,  when  speaking  of  those  phys- 


466 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


ical  arrangements,  whether  on  the  earth  or  in  the  heavens, 
which  continue  to  exhibit  the  same  appearance  from  age  to  age. 

“ Hie  segotes,  illic  veniunt  felicius  uvae  : 

Arborei  fetus  alibi,  atque  injussa  virescunt 
Gramina.  Nonne  vides,  eroeeos  ut  Tmolos  odores, 

India  mittit  ebur,  molles  sua  tbura  Sabfei  1 
At  Chalybes  nudi  ferrum,  virosaque  Pontus 
Castorea,  Eliadum  palmas  Epiros  equarum  ? 

Continue  has  leges,  eeternaque  feedera  eertis 
Imposuit  naiura  locis.” 

Virg.  Georg,  i.  60.* 

The  same  metaphor  occurs  in  another  passage  of  the  Georg- 
ies, where  the  poet  describes  the  regularity  which  is  exhibited 
in  the  economy  of  the  bees ; — 

“ Solse  communes  natos,  consortia  tecta 

Urbis  habent,  magnisque  agitant  sub  legihus  sevum.” 

Georg,  iv.  153.t 

The  following  lines  from  Ovid’s  account  of  the  Pythagorean 
philosophy,  arc  still  more  in  point : — 

“ Et  rerum  causas,  et  quid  natura  docebat ; 

Quid  Deus  : Unde  nives  : qute  fiilminis  esset  origo  : 

Jupiter,  an  venti,  discussa  nube  tonarent : 

Quid  quatcret  terras,  qua  sidera  lege  mearent, 

Et  quodcunque  latet.” 

Ovid.  Met.  XV.  68.J 


* [“Here  golden  corn,  there  luscious  grapes  abound, 

There  grass  spontaneous,  or  rich  fruits  are  found ; 

See’st  thou  not  Tmolus  saffron  sweets  dispense, 

Her  ivory  Ind,  Arabia  frankincense, 

The  naked  Chalybes  their  iron  ore  ? 

To  Castor  Pontus  gives  its  fetid  power ; 

While,  for  Olympic  games,  Epirus  breeds. 

To  whirl  the  circling  car,  the  swiftest  steeds. 

Nature,  these  laws  and  these  eternal  hands 
First  fixed  on  certain  climes  and  certain  lands.” 

Warton’s  translation.] 

t [“  They,  they  alone  a general  interest  share. 

Their  young  committing  to  the  public  care. 

And  all  concurring  in  the  common  cause, 

Live  in  fixed  cities  under  common  laws.^"* 

Warton.] 

t [“  While  he  discoursed  of  heaven’s  mysterious  laws, 

The  worlds  original  and  nature’s  cause ; 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


467 


Sagacity  and  foresight  dependent  on  the  uniformity  of  the 
laws  of  nature.  — I have  quoted  these  different  passages  from 
ancient  authors,  chiefly  as  an  illustration  of  the  strength  and 
of  the  similarity  of  the  impression  which  the  order  of  nature 
has  made  on  the  minds  of  reflecting  men,  in  all  ages  of  the 


And  ■what  was  God,  and  why  the  fleecy  snows 

In  silence  fell,  and  rattling  winds  arose 

That  shook  the  steadfast  earth,  and  whence  began, 

The  dance  of  planets  round  the  radiant  sun  ; 

If  thunder  was  the  angry  voice  of  Jove, 

Or  clouds  with  nitre  fragrant  burst  above ; — 

Of  these,  and  things  beyond  the  common  reach, 

He  spoke,  and  charmed  his  audience  with  his  speech.” 

Dryden's  translation.] 

I shall  only  add  to  these  quotations  the  epigram  of  Claudian  on  the 
instrument  said  to  be  invented  by  Archimedes  for  representing  the  move- 
ments of  the  heavenly  bodies,  in  which  various  expressions  occur  coincid- 
ing remarkably  with  the  scope  of  the  foregoing  observations. 

‘‘  Jupiter  in  parvo  cum  cemeret  sethera  vitro 
Risit,  et  ad  superos  talia  dicat  dedit. 

Huccine  mortalis  progressa  potentia  curas ; 

Jam  meus  in  fragili  luditur  orde  labor. 

Jura  Poli,  rerumiiue  Mem,  legesque  Deorum 
Ecce  Syracusius  transtulit  arte  senex. 

Inclusus  variis  famulatur  spiritus  astris, 

Et  vivum  certis  motibus  urget  opus. 

Percurrit  proprium  mentitus  signifer  annum, 

Et  simuiata  novo  Cynthia  mense  redit. 

Jamque  suum  volvens  audax  industria  mundum 
Gaudet,  et  humana  sidera  mente  regit. 

Quid  falso  insontem  tonitru  Salmomea  miror  ? 

.Simula  naturae  parva  reperta  manus.” 

[ When  Jove  beheld  a crystal  glohe  display 

The  world,  he  thus  addressed  Olympus’  train  . — 

Can  mortals  o'er  the  sphere  possess  such  sway, 

And  such  a toy  my  power  deride  as  vain  ? 

Great  Heaven’s  decrees,  th’  unerring  course  of  things, 

Laws  of  the  gods,  expounds  Sicilia’s  sage ; 

The  flight  of  stars  imprisoned  air  here  ■wings, 

Its  simple  powers  their  varying  movements  guage ; 

The  Zodiac  here  revolves  its  little  year. 

The  mimic  moons  succeeding  months  restore ; 

The  spheres  by  human  art  attuned  are  here, 

Impelled  by  it  the  stars  in  ether  soar. 

Instructed  hence,  no  longer  view  with  wonder 

Salmoneus’  chariot  and  his  bridge  of  thunder. 

Wrigl  t’s  translation.] 


4G8 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


world.  Nor  is  this  wonderful ; for,  were  things  differently  con- 
stituted, it  would  be  impossible  for  man  to  derive  benefit  from 
experience ; and  the  powers  of  observation  and  memory  wmuld 
be  subservient  only  to  the  gratification  of  an  idle  curiosity.*  In 
consequence  of  those  uniform  laws  by  which  the  succession  of 
events  is  actually  regulated,  every  fact  collected  with  respect  to 
the  past  is  a foundation  of  sagacity  and  of  skill  with  respect  to 
tlie  future ; and,  in  truth,  it  is  chiefly  this  application  of  expe- 
rience to  anticipate  what  is  yet  to  happen,  which  forms  the  in- 
tellectual superiority  of  one  individual  over  another.  The 
remark  holds  equally  in  all  the  various  pursuits  of  mankind, 
whether  speculative  or  active.  As  an  astronomer  is  able,  by 
reasonings  founded  on  past  observations,  to  predict  those  phe- 
nomena of  the  heavens  which  astonish  or  terrify  the  savage  ; — 
as  the  chemist,  from  his  previous  familiarity  ivith  the  changes 
operated  upon  bodies  by  heat  or  by  mixture,  can  predict  the 
result  of  innumerable  experiments,  which  to  others  furnish  only 
matter  of  amusement  and  wonder;  — so  a studious  observer  of 
human  affairs  acquires  a prophetic  foresight  (still  more  incom- 
prehensible to  the  multitude)  with  respect  to  the  future  fortunes 
of  mankind ; — a foresight  which,  if  it  does  not  reach,  like  our 
anticipations  in  physical  science,  to  particular  and  definite 
events,  amply  compensates  for  what  it  wants  in  precision,  by 
the  extent  and  variety  of  the  prospects  wdiich  it  opens.  It  is 
from  this  apprehended  analogy  between  the  future  and  the  past, 
that  historical  hnoiuledge  derives  the  whole  of  its  value  ; and  were 
the  analogy  completely  to  fail,  the  records  of  former  ages  would, 
in  point  of  utility,  rank  with  the  fictions  of  poetry.  Nor  is  the 
case  different  in  the  business  of  common  life.  Upon  what  does 
the  success  of  men  in  their  private  concerns  so  essentially  de- 
pend as  on  their  own  prudence  ; and  what  else  docs  this  word 
mean,  than  a wise  regard,  in  every  step  of  their  conduct,  to  the 
lessons  which  experience  has  taught  them  ? 

Illustrations  of  the  uniformity  of  natural  laws.  — The  depart- 


* [See  note  to  page  214.] 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


4C9 


ments  of  the  universe  in  which  we  have  an  opportunity  of  see- 
ing this  regular  order  displayed,  are  the  three  following : — 1. 
The  phenomena  of  inanimate  matter ; 2.  The  phenomena  of 
the  lower  amimals ; and,  3.  The  phenomena  exhibited  by  the 
human  race. 

1.  On  the  first  of  these  heads,  I have  only  to  repeat  what 
was  before  remarked.  That  in  all  the  'phenomena  of  the  material 
world,  the  uniformity  in  the  order  of  events  is  conceived  by  us  to 
he  complete  and  infallible;  insomuch  that,  to  be  assured  of  the 
same  result  upon  a repetition  of  the  same  experiment,  we  re- 
quire only  to  be  satisfied,  that  both  have  been  made  in  circum- 
stances precisely  similar.  A single  experiment,  accordingly,  if 
conducted  with  due  attention,  is  considered,  by  the  most  cautions 
inquirers,  as  sufficient  to  establish  a general  physical  fact ; and 
if,  on  any  occasion,  it  should  be  repeated  a second  time,  for  the 
sake  of  greater  certainty  in  the  conclusion,  it  is  merely  with  a 
view  of  guarding  against  the  effects  of  the  accidental  concomi- 
tants which  may  have  escaped  notice,  when  the  first  result  was 
obtained. 

2.  The  case  is  nearly  similar  in  the  phenomena  exhibited  by 
the  brutes,  the  various  tribes  of  which  furnish  a subject  of  ex- 
amination so  steady,  that  the  remarks  made  on  a few  individuals 
may  be  extended,  with  little  risk  of  error,  to  the  whole  species. 
To  this  uniformity  in  their  instincts  it  is  owing,  that  man  can  so 
easily  maintain  his  empire  over  them,  and  employ  them  as 
agents  or  instruments  for  accomphshing  his  purposes ; advan- 
tages which  would  be  wholly  lost  to  him,  if  the  operations  of 
instinct  were  as  much  diversified  as  those  of  human  reason. 
Here,  therefore,  we  may  plainly  trace  a purpose  or  design,  per- 
fectly analogous  to  that  already  remarked,  with  respect  to  the 
laws  which  regulate  the  material  world ; and  the  difference  in 
point  of  exact  uniformity,  which  distinguishes  the  two  classes 
of  events,  obviously  arises  from  a certain  latitude  of  action, 
which  enables  the  brutes  to  accommodate  themselves,  in  some 
measure,  to  their  accidental  situations ; — rendering  them,  in 
consequence  of  this  power  of  accommodation,  incomparably 
more  serviceable  to  our  race  than  they  would  have  been,  if  alto- 

40 


470 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


gether  subjected,  like  mere  matter,  to  the  influence  of  regular 
and  assignable  causes.  It  is,  moreover,  extremely  ivortlij^  of 
observation,  concerning  these  two  dejpartments  of  the  universe, 
that  the  uniformity  in  the  phenomena  of  the  latter  [the  brutes] 
presupposes  a corresponding  regularity  in  the  phenomena  of  the 
former  [inanimate  matter]  ; insomuch  that,  if  the  established 
order  of  the  material  world  were  to  be  essentially  disturbed 
(the  instincts  of  the  brutes  remaining  the  same)  all  their  various 
tribes  would  inevitably  perish.  The  uniformity  of  animal  in- 
stinct, therefore,  bears  a reference  to  the  constancy  and  immu- 
tability of  physical  laws,  not  less  manifest,  than  that  of  the  fin 
of  the  fish  to  the  properties  of  the  water,  or  of  the  wing  of  the 
bird  to  those  of  the  atmosjihere. 

3.  When  from  the  phenomena  of  inanimate  matter  and  those 
of  the  lower  animals,  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  history  of  our 
own  species,  innumerable  lessons  present  themselves  for  the 
instruction  of  all  who  reflect  seriously  on  the  great  concerns  of 
human  life.  These  lessons  require,  indeed,  an  uncommon  de- 
gree of  acuteness  and  good  sense  to  collect  them,  and  a still 
more  uncommon  degree  of  caution  to  apply  them  to  practice ; 
not  only  because  it  is  difficult  to  find  cases  in  which  the  combi- 
nations of  circumstances  are  exactly  the  same,  but  because  the 
pecidiarities  of  individual  character  are  infinite,  and  the  real 
springs  of  action  in  our  fellow-creatures  are  objects  only  of 
vague  and  doubtful  conjecture.  It  is,  however,  a curious  fact, 
and  one  which  opens  a wide  field  of  interesting  speculation, 
that,  in  proportion  as  we  extend  our  views  from  particulars  to 
generals,  and  from  individuals  to  communities,  human  affairs 
exhibit  more  and  more,  a steady  subject  of  philosophical  examin- 
ation, and  furnish  a greater  number  of  general  conclusions  to 
guide  our  conjectures  concerning  future  contingencies.  To 
speculate  concerning  the  character  or  talents  of  the  individual 
who  shall  possess  the  throne  of  a particular  kingdom  a hundred 
years  hence,  would  be  absurd  in  the  extreme : but  to  indulge 
imagination  in  anticipating,  at  the  same  distance  of  time,  the 
condition  and  character  of  any  great  nation,  with  whose  man- 
ners and  political  situation  we  are  well  acquainted,  (although 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


471 


fcv  fi  here  our  conclusions  may  be  widely  erroneous,)  could  not 
be  justly  censured  as  a misapplication  of  our  faculties  equally 
vain  and  irrational  with  the  former.  On  this  subject  Mr.  Hume 
has  made  some  very  ingenious  and  important  remarks  in  the 
beginning  of  his  Essay  on  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  Arts 
and  Sciences.* 

Uniformity  in  the  general  result  "preserved  amidst  unhounded 
variety  in  the  particulars.  — The  same  observation  is  applicable 


* [The  following  is  the  passage  refereed  to. 

“ Nothing  requires  greater  nicety,  in  our  inquiries  concerning  human 
affairs,  than  to  distinguish  exactly  what  is  owing  to  chance,  and  what  pro- 
ceeds from  causes;  nor  is  tliere  any  subject  in  which  an  author  is  more  lia- 
ble to  deceive  himself  by  false  subtilties  and  refinements.  To  say  that 
any  event  is  derived  from  chance,  cuts  short  all  further  inquiry  concerning 
it,  and  leaves  the  writer  in  the  same  state  of  ignorance  with  the  rest  of 
mankind.  But  when  the  event  is  supposed  to  proceed  from  certain  and 
stable  causes,  he  may  then  display  his  ingenuity  in  assigning  these  causes ; 
and  as  a man  of  any  subtilty  can  never  be  at  any  loss  in  this  particular,  he 
has  thereby  an  opportunity  of  swelling  his  volumes,  and  discovering  his 
profound  knowledge  in  observing  what  escapes  the  vulgar  and  ignorant. 

“ The  distinguishing  between  chance  and  causes  must  depend  upon  every 
particular  man’s  sagacity  in  considering  every  particular  incident.  But  if 
I were  to  assign  any  general  rule  to  help  us  in  applying  this  distinction,  it 
would  be  the  following  : What  depends  upon  a few  persons  is,  in  a great  meas- 
ure, to  be  ascribed  to  chance;  what  arises  from  a great  number  may  often  be  ac- 
counted for  by  determinate  and  knoivn  causes. 

“ Two  natural  reasons  may  be  assigned  for  this  rule.  First,  if  you  sup- 
pose a die  to  have  any  bias,  however  small,  to  a particular  side,  this  bias, 
though  perhaps  it  may  not  appear  in  a few  throws,  will  certainly  prevail  in 
a great  number,  and  will  cast  the  balance  entirely  to  that  side.  In  like 
manner,  when  any  causes  beget  a particular  inclination  oi  passion,  at  a 
certain  time,  and  among  a certain  people,  though  many  individuals  may 
escape  the  contagion,  and  be  ruled  by  passions  peculiar  to  themselves,  yet 
the  multitude  will  certainly  be  seized  by  the  common  affection,  and  be 
governed  by  it  in  all  their  actions. 

“ Secondly,  those  principles  or  causes  which  are  fitted  to  operate  on  a 
multitude,  are  always  of  a grosser  and  more  stubborn  nature,  less  subject 
to  accidents,  and  less  influenced  by  whim  and  private  fancj",  than  those 
w'hich  operate  on  a few  only.  The  latter  are  commonly  so  delicate  and 
refined,  that  the  smallest  incident  in  the  health,  education,  or  fortune  of  a 
particular  person,  is  sufficient  to  divert  then'  course  and  retard  their  opera- 


472 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


to  all  other  cases  in  which  events  depend  on  a multiplicity  of 
circumstances.  How  accidental  soever  these  circumstances  may 
appear,  and  how  much  soever  they  may  be  placed,  when  indi- 
vidually considered,  beyond  the  reach  of  our  calculations,  expe- 
rience shows,  that  they  are  somehow  or  other  mutually  adjusted, 
so  as  to  produce  a certain  degree  of  uniformity  in  the  result, 
and  this  uniformity  is  the  more  complete,  the  greater  is  the 
number  of  circumstances  combined.  What  can  appear  more  un- 
certain than  the  proportion  between  the  sexes  among  the  chil- 
dren of  any  one  family  ? and  yet  how  wonderfully  is  the  bal- 


tion  ; nor  is  it  possible  to  reduce  them  to  any  general  maxims  or  observa- 
tions. Their  influence  at  one  time  will  never  assure  us  concerning  their 
influence  at  another,  even  though  all  the  general  circumstances  should  be 
the  same  in  both  cases. 

“ To  judge  by  this  rale,  the  domestic  and  the  gradual  revolutions  of  a 
state  must  be  a more  proper  subject  of  reasoning  and  observation  than  the 
foreign  and  the  violent,  which  are  commonly  produced  by  single  persons, 
and  are  more  influenced  by  whim,  folly,  or  caprice,  than  by  general  pas- 
sions and  interests.  The  depression  of  the  Lords,  and  the  rise  of  the 
Commons  in  England,  after  the  statutes  of  alienation  and  the  increase  of 
trade  and  industry,  are  more  easily  accounted  for  by  general  principles, 
than  the  depression  of  the  Spanish  and  rise  of  the  French  monarchy  after 
tlie  death  of  Charles  Quint.  Had  Harry  IV.,  Cardinal  Eichelieu,  and 
Louis  XIV.  been  Spaniards,  and  Philip  II.,  Philip  III.,  Philip  IV.,  and 
Charles  II.  been  Erenchmen,  the  history  of  these  two  nations  had  been 
entirely  reversed. 

“Eor  the  same  reason,  it  is  more  easy  to  account  for  the  rise  and  pro- 
gress of  commerce  in  any  kingdom,  than  for  that  of  learning  ; and  a state, 
which  should  apply  itself  to  the  encouragement  of  one,  would  be  more 
assured  of  success  than  one  which  should  cultivate  the  other.  Avarice, 
or  the  desire  of  gain,  is  an  universal  passion,  which  operates  at  all  times, 
in  aU  places,  and  upon  all  persons  ; but  curiosity,  or  the  love  of  knowledge, 
has  a very  limited  influence,  and  requires  youth,  leisure,  education,  genius, 
and  example  to  make  it  govern  any  person.  You  will  never  want  book- 
sellers, while  there  are  buyers  of  books ; but  there  may  frequently  be 
readers,  where  there  are  no  authors.  Multitudes  of  people,  necessity,  and 
liberty  have  begotten  commerce  in  Holland ; but  study  and  application 
have  scarcely  produced  any  eminent  writers.”  — Hume’s  Works,  III.  119- 
121. 

As  society  is  composed  only  of  individuals,  the  movements  and  aspects 
of  society  could  not  be  predicted,  if  the  actions  of  the  individual  members 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


473 


ance  preserved  in  the  case  of  a numerous  society ! Wliat  more 
precarious  tiian  the  duration  of  life  in  an  individual?  and  yet, 
in  a long  list  of  persons  of  the  same  age,  and  placed  in  the 
same  circumstances,  the  mean  duration  of  life  is  found  to  vary 
within  very  narrow  limits.  In  an  extensive  district,  too,  a con- 
siderable degree  of  regularity  may  sometimes  be  traced  for  a 
course  of  years,  in  the  proportion  of  births  and  of  deaths  to  the 
number  of  the  whole  inhabitants.  Thus,  in  France,  Necker 
informs  us,  that  “ the  number  of  births  is  in  proportion  to  that 
of  tlie  inhabitants  as  one  to  twenty-three  and  twenty-four,  in 
the  districts  that  are  not  fa%mred  by  nature,  nor  by  moral  cir- 
cumstances ; this  proportion  is  as  one  to  twenty-five,  twenty- 

were  not,  at  least  in  certain  respects,  subject  to  law.  The  reality  and  the 
possibility  of  such  sciences  as  politics  and  political  economy,  depend  on 
the  known  facts,  that  the  actions  of  men  are  influenced  by  motives,  that 
there  are  certain  leading  motives,  such  as  the  desire  of  life,  health,  free- 
dom, and  property,  which  are  common  to  all  men,  and  therefore  tliat  the 
conduct  of  men  on  certain  occasions,  and  to  a certain  extent,  can  be  an- 
ticipated with  full  confidence  that  the  prediction  will  be  justified  by  the 
result.  Were  it  not  so,  no  general  maxims  could  be  established  in  political 
or  social  science,  and  no  lessons  could  be  derived  from  history.  The  con- 
duct of  men  offers  the  same  combination  of  uniformity  with  variety,  of 
unity  of  principle  underlying  innumerable  differences  of  detail,  which  is 
seen  in  the  works  of  God  in  the  external  universe.  According  as  the  ob- 
server stands  nearer  or  further  off,  according  as  his  object  is  to  arrange 
and  classify  for  the  purposes  of  science,  or  to  particularize  for  the  sake  of 
description,  so  will  he  be  more  struck  with  the  evidences  of  order  and  uni- 
formity, or  with  those  of  diversity  and  fluctuation.  Look  at  great  masses 
of  men  only  from  a.distance,  at  which  minute  peculiarities  are  lost  in  the 
general  effects,  (just  as  the  sounds  from  a distant  city  are  blended  in  one 
hollow  murmur,)  and  they  appear  like  machines,  or  rather  the  multitude 
itself  seems  one  great  machine.  But  examine  microscopically  the  conduct 
of  an  individual  for  two  successive  hours,  and  it  appears  a mass  of  incon- 
sistencies, motiveless  alterations,  and  oddities  that  baffle  all  computation 
and  foresight.  The  will  alone,  it  is  true,  is  changeful  and  irregular,  its 
very  caprice  indicating  its  freedom ; but  will,  when  influenced  by  some 
ruling  passion  and  enlightened  by  reason,  is  comparatively  steady  and  uni- 
form in  its  operations ; and  will  enlightened  by  infinite  wisdom,  we  may 
presume,  knows  no  change  of  purpose  or  shifting  of  means,  but  reconciles 
perfect  order  with  endless  variety.  And  such  is  the  character,  both  of  the 
material  and  moral  universe.] 


40* 


474 


llEASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


five  and  a half,  and  twenty-six,  in  the  greatest  part  of  France ; 
in  cities,  as  one  to  twenty-seven,  twenty-eight,  twenty-nine,  and 
even  thirty,  according  to  their  extent  and  their  trade.”  “ Such 
proportions,”  he  observes,  “ can  only  be  remarked  in  districts 
where  there  are  no  settlers  nor  emigrants ; but  even  the 
differences  arising  from  these  (the  same  author  adds),  and 
many  other  causes,  acquire  a kmd  of  uniformity,  v/hen  collec- 
tively considered,  and  in  the  immense  extent  of  so  great  a 
kingdom.” 

It  may  be  worth  while  to  remark,  that  it  is  on  these  princi- 
ples that  all  the  different  institutions  for  assurances  [insurance'] 
are  founded.  The  object  at  which  they  all  aim,  in  common,  is, 
to  diminish  the  number  of  accidents  to  which  human  life  is  ex- 
posed, or  rather  to  counteract  the  inconveniences  resulting  from 
the  irregularity  of  individual  events,  by  the  uniformity  of  gen- 
eral laws. 

The  idea  of  a great  cycle  in  the  order  of  events.  — The  ad- 
vantages which  we  derive  from  such  general  conclusions  as  we 
possess  concerning  the  order  of  nature  are  so  great,  and  our 
propensity  to  believe  in  its  existence  is  so  strong,  that,  even  in 
cases  where  the  succession  of  events  appears  the  most  anoma- 
lous, we  are  apt  to  suspect  the  operation  of  fixed  and  constant 
laws,  though  we  may  be  unable  to  trace  them.  The  vulgar,  in 
all  countries,  perhaps,  have  a propensity  to  imagine,  that,  after 
a certain  number  of  years,  the  succession  of  plentiful  and  of 
scanty  harvests  begins  again  to  be  repeated  in  the  same  series  as 
before,  a notion  to  which  Lord  Bacon  himself  has  given  some 
countenance  in  the  following  passage : “ There  is  a toj''  which  I 
have  heard,  and  I would  not  have  it  given  over,  but  waited 
upon  a little.  They  say  it  is  observed  in  the  Low  Countries, 
(I  know  not  in  what  part,)  that  every  five-and-thirty  years,  the 
same  kind  and  suite  of  years  and  weathers  comes  about  again ; 
as  great  frosts,  great  wet,  great  droughts,  warm  ivinters,  sum- 
mers with  little  heat,  and  the  like ; and  they  call  it  the  prime. 
It  is  a thing  I do  the  rather  mention,  because,  computing  back- 
wards, I have  found  some  concurrence.” 

Among  the  pliilosophers  of  antiquity,  the  influence  of  the 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


475 


same  prejudice  is  observable  on  a scale  still  greater,  many  of 
them  having  supposed,  that  at  the  end  of  the  annus  tnagnus,  or 
Platonic  year,  a repetition  would  commence  of  all  the  transac- 
tions that  have  occurred  on  the  theatre  of  the  world.  Accord- 
ing to  this  doctrine,  the  predictions  in  Virgil’s  Pollio  wiU, 
sooner  or  later,  be  literally  accomplished : — 

*'  Alter  erit  turn  Typhis,  et  altera  quae  vehat  Argo 
Delectos  Heroas  ; erant  etiam  altera  bella ; 

Atque  iterum  ad  Trojam  magnus  mittetur  Achilles.”* 

[“  And  other  Argos  bear  the  chosen  powers  ; 

New  wars  the  bleeding  nations  shall  destroy, 

And  great  Achilles  find  a second  Troy.”] 

The  astronomical  cycles  which  the  Greeks  borrowed  from  the 
Egyptians  and  Chaldeans,  when  combined  with  that  natural 
bias  of  the  mind  which  I have  just  remarked,  account  suffi- 
ciently for  this  extension  to  the  moral  world,  of  ideas  suggested 
by  the  order  of  physical  phenomena. 

Use  made  hy  the  fatalists  of  this  conjecture.  — Nor  is  this 
hypothesis  of  a moral  cycle,  extravagant  as  it  unquestionably 
is,  without  its  partizans  among  modern  theorists.  The  train  of 
thought,  indeed,  by  which  they  have  been  led  to  adopt  it,  is 
essentially  different ; but  it  probably  received  no  small  degree 
of  countenance  in  their  opinion,  from  the  same  bias  which  influ- 
enced the  speculations  of  the  ancients.  It  has  been  demon- 
strated by  one  of  the  most  profound  mathematicians  of  the 


* “ Turn  efficitur,”  says  Cicero,  speaking  of  this  period,  “ cum  solis  et 
lunae,  et  quinque  errantium  ad  eandem  inter  se,  coinparationem  confectis 
omnium  spatiis,  est  facta  conversio.  Qu®  quam  longa  sit,  magna  quaes- 
tio  est ; esse  vero  certam  et  definitam  necesse  est.”  [It  is  then  eifected, 
when  the  revolutions  of  the  sun  and  moon  and  five  planets  being  com- 
pleted, they  have  come  round  to  the  same  relative  place  with  each  other 
as  before.  How  long  this  period  may  be,  is  a great  question ; but  it  must 
necessarily  be  a fixed  and  definite  period.]  — De  Nat.  Deorum,  lib.  ii.  74. 

Hoc  intervallo,”  Clavius  observes,  “ quidam  volunt,  omnia  qusecunque 
in  mundo  sunt,  eodem  ordine  esse  reditura,  quo  nunc  cernuntur.”  [After 
this  interval,  some  maintain,  all  things  in  the  world  will  come  round  into 
the  same  order  in  which  they  are  now.]  — Clav.  Commentar.  in  Sphceram. 


476 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


present  age,  (I\I.  de  la  Grange,)  that  all  the  irregularities  aris- 
ing from  the  mutual  action  of  the  j)lanets  are,  by  a combination 
of  various  arrangements,  necessarily  subjected  to  certain  peri- 
odical laws,  so  as  forever  to  secure  the  stability  and  order  of 
the  system.  Of  this  sublime  conclusion,  it  has  been  justly  and 
beautifully  observed,  that  “after  Newton’s  theory  of  the  ellip- 
tic orbits  of  the  planets.  La  Grange’s  discovery  of  their  period- 
ical inequalities,  is,  without  doubt,  the  noblest  truth  in  physical 
astronomy  ; while,  in  respect  of  the  doctrine  of  final  causes,  it 
may  truly  be  regarded  as  the  greatest  of  all.”  The  theorists, 
however,  to  whom  I at  present  allude,  seem  disposed  to  con- 
sider it  in  a very  different  light,  and  to  employ  it  for  purposes 
of  a very  different  tendency.  “ Similar  periods,  it  has  been 
said,  but  of  an  extent  that  affright  the  imagination,  probably 
regulate  the  modifications  of  the  atmosphere ; inasmuch  as  the 
same  series  of  appearances  must  inevitably  recur,  whenever  a 
coincidence  of  circumstances  take  place.  The  aggregate  labors 
of  men,  indeed,  may  be  supposed,  at  first  sight,  to  alter  the 
operation  of  natural  causes,  by  continually  transforming  the 
face  of  our  globe ; but  it  must  be  recollected  that,  as  the  agency 
of  animals  is  itself  stimulated  and  determined  solely  by  the 
influence  of  external  objects,  the  reactions  of  livinj  beings  are 
comprehended  in  the  same  necessary  system  ; and,  consequently, 
that  all  the  events  within  the  immeasurable  circuit  of  the  uni- 
verse, are  the  successive  evolution  of  an  extended  series, 
which,  at  the  return  of  some  vast  period,  repeats  its  eternal 
round  during  the  endless  flux  of  time.”  * 


* The  foregoing  passage  is  transcribed  from  an  article  in  the  Monthly 
Review.  I have  neglected  to  mark  the  volume;  but  1 think  it  is  one  of 
those  published  since  1800. 

From  some  expressions  in  this  quotation,  it  would  seem  that  the  writer 
considered  it  as  now  established  by  mathematical  demonstration,  not  only 
that  a provision  is  made  for  maintaining  the  order  and  the  stability  of  the 
solar  system  ; but  that,  after  certain  periods,  all  the  changes  arising  from 
the  mutual  actions  of  the  planets,  begin  again  to  be  repeated  over  in  an 
invariable  and  eternal  round , — or  rather,  that  all  this  is  the  result  of  the 
necessary  properties  of  matter  and  of  motion.  The  truth  is,  that  this 


REASONING  ANG  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


477 


On  this  very  bold  argument,  considered  in  its  connection 
with  the  scheme  of  necessity,  I have  nothing  to  observe  here. 
I have  mentioned  it  merely  as  an  additional  proof  of  that  irre- 
sistible propensity  to  believe  in  the  permanent  order  of  physi- 
cal events,  which  seems  to  form  an  original  principle  of  the 
human  constitution ; — a belief  essential  to  our  existence  in  the 
world  which  we  inhabit,  as  well  as  the  foundation  of  all  physi- 
:al  science ; but  which  we  obviously  extend  far  beyond  the 
bounds  authorized  by  sound  philosophy,  when  we  apply  it,  with- 
out any  limitation,  to  that  moral  system,  which  is  distinguished 
by  peculiar  characteristics,  so  numerous  and  important,  and  for 
the  accommodation  of  which,  so  many  reasons  entitle  us  to  pre- 


assumptioii  is  quite  unfounded,  in  point  of  fact ; and  that  the  astronomi- 
cal discovery  in  question,  affords  not  the  slightest  analogical  presumption 
in  favor  of  a moral  cycle  ; — even  on  the  supposition,  that  the  actions  of  the 
human  race,  and  the  motions  of  the  globes  which  they  inhabit,  were  both 
equally  subjected  to  the  laws  of  mechanism. 

The  quotation  which  gave  occasion  to  the  foregoing  sh'ictnre,  induces 
me  to  add,  before  concluding  this  note,  that  when  we  speak  of  La  Grange’s 
Demonstration  of  the  stability  of  the  solar  system,  it  is  by  no  means  to  be 
understood  that  he  has  proved,  by  mathematical  reasoning,  that  this  system 
never  will,  nor  ever  can,  come  to  an  end.  The  amount  of  his  truly  sublime 
discovery  is,  that  the  system  does  not,  as  Newton  imagined,  contain  within 
itself,  like  the  workmanship  of  mortal  hands,  the  elements  of  its  own  decay  ; 
and  that,  therefore,  its  final  dissolution  is  to  be  looked  for,  not  from  the 
operation  of  physical  causes,  subjected  to  the  calculations  of  astronomers, 
but  from  the  will  of  that  Almighty  Being,  by  whose  fiat  it  was  at  first 
called  into  existence.  That  this  stability  is  a necessary  consequence  of 
the  general  laws  by  which  we  find  the  system  to  be  governed,  may,  indeed, 
be  assumed  as  a demonstrated  proposition  ; but  it  must  always  be  remem- 
bered, that  this  necessity  is  only  hypothetical  or  conditional,  being  itself  de- 
pendent on  the  continuance  of  laws,  which  may  at  pleasure  be  altered  or 
suspended. 

Tbe  whole  of  the  argument  in  the  text,  on  the  permanence  or  stability 
of  the  order  of  nature,  is  manifestly  to  be  understood  with  simitar  restric- 
tions. It  relates,  not  to  necessary,  but  to  probable  truths  ; not  to  conclusions 
syllogistically  deduced  from  abstract  principles,  but  to  future  contingen- 
cies, which  we  are  determined  to  expect  by  a fundamental  law  of  belief 
adapted  to  the  present  scene  of  our  speculations  and  actions. 


478 


EEA.SONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


sume,  that  the  material  universe,  with  all  its  constant  and  har- 
monious laws,  was  purposely  arranged. 

Popular  superstitions  founded  on  the  uniformity  of  the  laws 
of  nature.  — To  a hasty  and  injudicious  application  of'tlie  same 
belief,  in  anticipating  the  future  course  of  human  affairs,  might 
be  traced  a variety  of  popular  superstitions,  which  have  pre- 
vailed, in  a greater  or  less  degree,  in  all  nations  and  ages ; 
those  supei’stitions,  for  example,  which  have  given  rise  to  the 
study  of  charms,  of  omens,  of  astrology,  and  the  different  arts 
of  divination.  But  the  argument  has  been  already  prosecuted 
as  far  as  its  connection  with  this  part  of  the  subject  requires. 
For  a fuller  illustration  of  it,  I refer  to  some  remarks  on  page 
217,  on  the  superstitious  observances  which,  among  rude  na- 
tions, are  constantly  found  blended  with  the  practice  of  physic ; 
and  which,  contemptible  and  ludicrous  as  they  seem,  have  an 
obvious  foundation,  during  the  infancy  of  human  reason,  in 
those  important  principles  of  our  nature,  which,  when  duly  dis- 
ciplined by  a more  enlarged  experience,  lead  to  the  sublime 
discoveries  of  inductive  science. 

Nor  is  it  to  the  earlier  stages  of  society,  or  to  the  lower 
classes  of  the  people,  that  these  superstitions  are  confined. 
Even  in  the  most  enlightened  and  refined  periods,  they  occa- 
sionally appear ; exercising,  not  unfrequently,  over  men  of  the 
highest  genius  and  talents,  an  ascendant  which  is  at  once  con- 
solatory and  humiliating  to  the  species. 

“ Ecce  fulgurum  monitus,  oraculorum  praescita,  aruspicum 
praedicta,  atque  etiam  parva  dictu  in  auguriis,  sternutamenta  et 
offensiones  pedum.  Divus  Augustus  Isevum  prodidit  sibi  calceura 
praepostere  inductum,  quo  die  seditione  militari  prope  afflictus 
est.”  [Consider  the  warnings  of  thunder,  the  presages  of  ora- 
cles, the  predictions  of  soothsayers,  and  even  such  insignificant 
circumstances  in  augury  as  sneezing  and  stumbling.  The  em- 
peror Augustus  said,  he  put  on  his  left  shoe  instead  of  his  right, 
on  the  day  when  he  nearly  perished  in  a mutiny.]  (Plin.  Nat. 
Hist.  lib.  ii.) 

“ Dr.  Johnson,”  says  his  affectionate  and  very  communica- 
tive biographer,  “ had  another  particularity,  of  which  none  of 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


479 


his  friends  ever  ventured  to  ask  an  explanation.  It  appeared 
to  me  some  superstitious  habit,  which  he  had  contracted  early, 
and  from  which  he  had  never  called  upon  his  reason  to  disen- 
tangle him.  This  was  his  anxious  care  to  go  out  or  in  at  a 
door  or  j)assage,  by  a certain  number  of  steps  from  a certain 
point,  or  at  least,  so  as  that  either  his  right  or  his  left  foot  (I 
am  not  certain  which)  should  constantly  make  the  first  actual 
movement  when  he  came  close  to  the  door  or  passage.  Thus  I 
conjecture ; for  I have,  upon  innumerable  occasions,  observed 
him  suddenly  stop,  and  then  seem  to  count  his  steps  with  a deep 
eai’nestness ; and  when  he  had  neglected  or  gone  wrong  in  this 
sort  of  magical  movement,  I have  seen  him  go  back  again,  put 
himself  in  a proper  posture  to  begin  the  ceremony,  and  having 
gone  through  it,  break  from  his  abstraction,  walk  briskly  on, 
and  join  his  companion.” 

The  remark  may  appear  somewhat  out  of  place,  but,  after 
the  last  quotation,  I may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  the  person 
to  whom  it  relates,  great  as  his  powers  and  splendid  as  his  ac- 
complishments undoubtedly  were,  was  scarcely  entitled  to 
assert,  that  “ Education  is  as  well  known,  and  has  long  been  as 
well  known,  as  ever  it  can  be.”  What  a limited  estimate  of 
the  objects  of  education  must  this  great  man  have  formed  ! 
They  who  know  the  value  of  a well  regulated  and  unclouded 
mind,  would  not  incur  the  weakness  and  wretchedness  exhibited 
in  the  foregoing  description,  for  all  his  literacy  acquirements 
and  literary  fame. 

3.  General  remarJcs  on  the  difference  between  the  evidence  of 
experience,  and  that  of  analogy.  — According  to  the  account  of 
experience  which  has  been  hitherto  given,  its  evidence  reaches 
710  further  than  to  an  anticipation  of  the  future  from  the  past,  in 
cases  where  the  same  physical  cause  continues  to  operate  in  exactly 
the  same  circumstances.  That  this  statement  is  agreeable  to  the 
strict  philosophical  notion  of  experience,  will  not  be  disputed. 
Wherever  a change  takes  place,  either  in  the  cause  itself,  or  in 
the  circumstances  combined  with  it  in  our  former  trials,  the  an- 
ticipations which  we  form  of  the  future  cannot  with  propriety 
be  referred  to  experience  alone,  but  to  experience  cooperating 


480 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


with  some  other  principles  of  our  nature.  In  common  discourse, 
however,  precision  in  the  use  of  language  is  not  to  he  expected, 
where  logical  or  metaphysical  ideas  are  at  all  concerned ; and 
therefore,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  word  experience 
should  often  be  employed  with  a latitude  greatly  beyond  what 
the  former  definition  authorizes.  When  I transfer,  for  example, 
my  conclusions  concerning  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies  from 
one  stone  to  another  stone,  or  even  from  a stone  to  a leaden 
bullet,  my  inference  might  be  said,  with  sufficient  accuracy  for 
the  ordinary  purposes  of  speech,  to  have  the  evidence  of  expe- 
rience in  its  favor ; if,  indeed,  it  would  not  savor  of  scholastic 
affectation  to  aim  at  a more  rigorous  enunciation  of  the  propo- 
sition. Nothing  at  the  same  time  can  be  more  evident  than 
this,  that  the  slightest  shade  of  difference  which  tends  to  weaken 
the  resemblance,  or  rather  to  destroy  the  identity  of  two  cases, 
invalidates  the  inference  from  the  one  to  the  other,  as  far  as  it 
rests  on  experience  solely,  po  less  than  the  most  prominent  dis- 
similitudes vdiicli  characterize  the  different  kingdoms  and  de- 
partments of  nature. 

Upon  what  ground  do  I conclude  that  the  thrust  of  a sword 
through  my  body,  in  a particular  direction,  would  be  followed 
by  instant  death  ? According  to  the  popular  use  of  language, 
the  obvious  answer  would  be,  — upon  experience,  and  experi- 
ence alone.  But  surely  this  account  of  the  matter  is  extremely 
loose  and  incorrect ; for  where  is  the  evidence  that  the  internal 
structure  of  my  body  bears  any  resemblance  to  that  of  any  of 
the  other  bodies  which  have  been  hitherto  examined  by  anato- 
mists ? It  is  no  answer  to  this  question  to  tell  me,  that  the 
experience  of  these  anatomists  has  ascertained  a uniformity  of 
structure  in  every  human  subject  which  has  as  yet  been  dis- 
sected ; and  that  therefore  I am  justified  in  concluding,  that  my 
body  forms  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  My  question  does 
not  relate  to  the  soundness  of  this  inference,  but  to  the  princi- 
ple of  my  nature,  which  leads  me  thus  not  only  to  reason  from 
the  past  to  the  future,  but  to  reason  from  one  thing  to  another 
which,  in  its  external  marks,  bears  a certain  degree  of  resem- 
blance to  it.  Something  more  than  experience,  in  the  strictest 


KEASONING  AlvD  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


481 


sense  of  that  word,  is  surely  necessary  to  explain  the  transition 
from  what  is  identically  the  same,  to  what  is  only  similar ; and 
yet  my  inference  in  this  instance  is  made  with  the  most  assured 
and  unqualified  confidence  in  the  infallibility  of  the  result.  No 
inference,  founded  on  the  most  direct  and  long  continued  expe- 
rience, nor  indeed  any  proposition  established  by  mathematical 
demonstration,  could  more  imperiously  command  my  assent. 

In  whatever  manner  the  province  of  experience,  strictly  so 
called,  comes  to  be  thus  enlarged,  it  is  perfectly  manifest,  that 
without  some  provision  for  this  purpose,  the  principles  of  our 
constitution  would  not  have  been  duly  adjusted  to  the  scene  in 
which  we  have  to  act.  "W^ere  we  not  so  formed  as  eagerly  to 
seize  the  resembling  features  of  different  things  and  different 
events,  and  to  extend  our  conclusions  from  the  individual  to  the 
species,  fife  would  elapse  before  we  had  acquired  the  first  rudi- 
ments of  that  knowledge  which  is  essential  to  the  preservation 
of  our  animal  existence. 

This  step  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind  has  been  little,  if 
at  all,  attended  to  by  philosophers ; and  it  is  certainly  not  easy 
to  explain,  in  a manner  completely  satisfactory,  how  it  is  made. 
The  following  hints  seem  to  me  to  go  a considerable  way 
towards  a solution  of  the  difficulty. 

How  experience  is  made  to  extend  to  cases  not  precisely  paral- 
lel. — It  is  remarked  by  Mr.  Smith,  in  his  considerations  on  the 
formation  of  languages,  that  the  origin  of  genera  and  species, 
which  is  commonly  represented  in  the  schools  as  the  effect  of 
an  intellectual  process  peculiarly  mysterious  and  unintelligible, 
is  a natural  consequence  of  our  disposition  to  transfer  to  a new 
object  the  name  of  any  other  familiar  object,  which  possesses  such 
a degree  of  resemblance  to  it  as  to  serve  the  memory  for  an  asso- 
ciating tie  between  them.  It  is  • in  this  manner,  he  has  shown, 
and  not  by  any  formal  or  scientific  exercise  of  abstraction,  that, 
in  the  infancy  of  language,  proper  names  are  gradually  trans- 
formed into  appellatives ; or,  in  other  words,  that  individual 
things  come  to  be  referred  to  classes  or  assortments. 

This  remark  becomes,  in  my  opinion,  much  more  luminous 
and  important,  by  being  combined  with  another  very  original 

41 


482 


REASONING  ANI>  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


one,  which  is  ascribed  to  Turgot  by  Condorcet,  and  which  I do 
not  recollect  to  have  seen  taken  notice  of  by  any  later  writer 
on  the  human  mind.  According  to  the  common  doctrine  of 
logicians,  we  are  led  to  suppose,  that  our  Tcnowledge  begins  in  an 
accurate  and  minute  acquaintance  with  the  characteristical 
properties  of  individual  objects  ; and  that  it  is  only  by  the  slow 
exercise  of  comparison  and  abstraction,  that  we  attain  to  the 
notion  of  classes  or  genera.  In  opposition  to  this  idea,  it  was 
a maxim  of  Turgot’s,  that  some  of  our  most  abstract  and  gen- 
eral notions  are  among  the  earliest  which  we  form.  What 
meaning  he  annexed  to  this  maxim,  we  are  not  informed ; but 
if  he  understood  it  in  the  same  sense  in  which  I am  disposed 
to  interpret  it,  he  appears  to  me  entitled  to  the  credit  of  a very 
valuable  suggestion  with  respect  to  the  natural  progress  of 
human  knowledge.  The  truth  is,  that  our  first  perceptions  lead 
us  invariably  to  confound  together  things  which  have  very  little 
in  common;  and  that  the  specifical  differences  of  individuals 
do  not  begin  to  be  marked  with  precision,  till  the  powers  of  ob- 
servation and  reasoning  have  attained  to  a certain  degree  of 
maturity.  To  a similar  indistinctness  of  perception,  are  to  be 
ascribed  the  mistakes  about  the  most  familiar  appearances 
which  we  daily  see  committed  by  those  domesticated  animals 
with  whose  instincts  and  habits  we  have  an  opportunity  of  be- 
coming intimately  acquainted.  As  an  instance  of  this,  it  is 
sufficient  to  mention  the  terror  which  a horse  sometimes  dis- 
covers in  passing,  on  the  road,  a large  stone,  or  the  waterfall  of 
a mill. 

Two  hinds  of  general  notions.  — Notwithstanding,  however, 
the  justness  of  this  maxim,  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  every 
scientific  classification  must  be  founded  on  an  examination  and 
comparison  of  individuals.  These  individuals  must,  in  the 
first  instance,  have  been  observed  with  accuracy,  before  their 
specific  characteristics  could  be  rejected  from  the  generic 
description,  so  as  to  limit  the  attention  to  the  common  qualities 
which  it  comprehends.  What  are  usually  called  general  ideas, 
or  general  notions,  are  therefore  of  two  kinds,  essentially  differ- 
ent from  each  other ; those  which  are  general,  merely  from  the 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


483 


vagueness  and  imperfection  of  our  information ; and  those  which 
have  been  methodically  generalized,  in  the  way  explained  by 
logicians,  in  consequence  of  an  abstraction  founded  on  a care- 
ful study  of  particulars.  Philosophical  precision  requires,  that 
two  sets  of  notions,  so  totally  dissimilar,  should  not  be  con- 
founded together ; and  an  attention  to  the  distinction  between 
them  will  be  found  to  throw  much  light  on  various  important 
steps  in  the  natural  history  of  the  mind.* 

Our  disposition  to  confound  things  which  are  really  differ- 
ent. — One  obvious  effect  of  the  grossness  and  vagueness  in  the 
perceptions  of  the  inexperienced  observer,  must  necessarily  be, 
to  identify,  under  the  same  common  appellations,  immense  mul- 
titudes of  individuals,  which  the  philosopher  will  afterwards 
find  reason  to  distinguish  carefully  from  each  other;  and  as 
language,  by  its  unavoidable  reaction  on  thought,  never  fails  to 
restore  to  it  whatever  imperfections  it  has  once  received,  all 
the  indistinctness  which,  in  the  case  of  individual  observers, 
originated  in  an  ill-informed  judgment,  or  in  a capricious  fancy, 
comes  afterwards,  in  succeeding  ages,  to  be  entailed  on  the 
infant  understanding,  in  consequence  of  its  incorporation  with 
vernacular  speech.  These  confused  apprehensions  produced 
by  language  must,  it  is  easy  to  see,  operate  exactly  in  the 

* The  distinction  above  stated,  furnishes  what  seems  to  me  the  true 
answer  to  an  argument  which  Charron,  and  many  other  writers  since  his 
time,  have  drawn,  in  proof  of  the  reasoning  powers  of  brutes,  from  the 
universal  conclusions  which  they  appear  to  found  on  the  observation  of 
particulars..  [“  Brutes  form  general  conclusions  from  particular  objects  ; 
for,  from  the  appearance  of  one  man,  they  recognize  aU  men.”] 

Instead  of  saying  that  brutes  generalize  things  which  are  similar, 
would  it  not  be  nearer  the  truth  to  say,  that  they  confound  things  which 
are  different. 

Many  years  after  these  observations  were  written,  I had  the  satisfaction 
to  meet  with  the  following  experimental  confirmation  of  them  in  the  Abbe 
Sicard’s  Course  of  Instruction  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb  : [“  I observed  that 
Massieu  preferred  giving  the  same  name,  as  a common  name,  to  several 
individuals,  among  which  he  saw  some  points  of  resemblance ; partic- 
ular names  supposed  differences  among  them  which  he  had  not  yet  ob- 
served.”] — (Sicard,  pp.  30,  31.)  The  whole  of  the  passage  is  well  worth 
consulting. 


431 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


game  way  as  the  undistinguisLlng  perceptions  of  children  or 
savages ; the  familiar  use  of  a generic  word  insensibly  and 
irresistibly  leading  the  mind  to  extend  its  conclusions  from  the 
individual  to  the  genus,  and  thus  laying  the  foundation  of  con- 
clusions and  anticipations,  wliich  we  suppose  to  rest  on  experi- 
ence, when,  in  truth,  experience  has  never  been  consulted. 

In  all  such  instances,  it  is  worthy  of  observation,  we  proceed 
ultimately  on  the  common  principle,  — that  in  similar  circum- 
stances, the  same  cause  will  produce  the  same  effects ; and 
when  we  err,  the  source  of  our  error  lies  merely  in  identifying 
different  cases  which  ought  to  be  distinguished  from  each  other. 
Great  as  may  be  the  occasional  inconveniences  arising  from 
this  general  principle  thus  misapplied,  they  beai'  no  proportion 
to  the  essential  advantages  resulting  from  the  disposition,  in 
which  they  originate,  to  arrange  and  to  classify ; a disposition 
on  which  (as  I have  elsewhere  shown)  the  intellectual  improve- 
ment of  the  species  in  a great  manner  hinges.  That  the  con- 
stitution of  our  nature  in  this  respect  is,  on  the  whole,  wisely 
ordered,  as  well  as  perfectly  comformable  to  tlie  general  econ- 
omy of  our  frame,  will  appear  from  a slight  survey  of  some 
other  principles,  nearly  allied  to  those  which  are  at  present 
under  our  consideration. 

It  has  been  remarked  by  some  eminent  writers  in  this  part 
of  the  island,  that  our  expectation  of  the  continuance  of  the 
laws  of  nature  has  a very  close  affinity  to  our  faith  in  human 
testimony.  The  parallel  might  perhaps  be  carried,  without 
any  over  refinement,  a little  further  than  these  writers  have 
attempted;  inasmuch  as,  in  both  cases,  the  instinctive  prin- 
ciple is  in  the  first  instance  unlimited,  and  requires,  for  its  cor- 
rection and  regulation,  the  lessons  of  subsequent  experience. 
As  the  credulity  of  children  is  originally  without  bounds,  and 
is  afterwards  gradually  checked  by  the  examples  which  they 
occasionally  meet  w'ith  of  human  falsehood,  so,  in  the  infancy 
of  our  knowledge,  whatever  objects  or  events  jR'esent  to  our 
senses  a strong  resemblance  to  each  other,  disjjose  us,  without 
any  very  accurate  examination  of  the  minute  details  by  which 
they  may  be  really  discriminated,  to  conclude  with  eagerness, 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


485, 


the  experiments  and  observations  -which  we  make  with 
respect  to  one  individual,  may  be  safely  extended  to  the  whole 
class.  It  is  experience  alone  that  teaches  us  caution  in  such 
inferences,  and  subjects  the  natural  principle  to  the  discipline 
prescribed  by  the  rules  of  induction. 

How  this  disposition  is  corrected.  — It  must  not,  however,  be 
imagined,  that,  in  instances  of  this  sort,  the  instinctive  principle 
always  leads  us  astray ; for  the  analogical  anticipations  which 
it  disposes  us  to  form,  although  they  may  not  stand  the  test  of 
a rigorous  examination,  may  yet  be  sufficiently  just  for  all  the 
common  purposes  of  life.  It  is  natural,  for  example,  that  a 
man  who  has  been  educated  in  Europe  should  expect,  when  he 
changes  his  residence  to  any  of  the  other  quarters  of  the  globe, 
to  see  heavy  bodies  fall  downwards,  and  smoke  to  ascend,  agree- 
ably to  the  general  laws  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed ; and 
that  he  should  take  for  granted,  in  providing  the  means  of  his 
subsistence,  that  the  animals  and  vegetables  which  he  has  found 
to  be  salutary  and  nutritious  in  his  native  regions,  possess  the 
same  qualities  wherever  they  exhibit  the  same  appearances. 
Nor  are  such  expectations  less  useful  than  natural ; for  they  are 
completely  realized,  as  far  as  they  minister  to  the  gratification 
of  our  more  urgent  wants.  It  is  only  when  we  begin  to  indulge 
our  curiosity  with  respect  to  those  nicer  details,  which  derive 
their  interest  from  great  refinement  in  the  arts,  or  from  a very 
advanced  state  of  physical  knowledge,  that  we  discover  our  first 
conclusions,  however  just  in  the  main,  not  to  be  mathematically 
exact;  and  are  led  by  those  habits  which  scientific  pursuits 
communicate,  to  investigate  the  difference  of  circumstances 
to  which  the  variety  in  the  result  is  owing.  After  having 
found  that  heavy  bodies  fall  do-wnwards  at  the  equator 
as  they  do  in  this  island,  the  most  obvious,  and  perhaps,  on 
a superficial  view  of  the  question,  the  most  reasonable,  infer- 
ence would  be,  that  the  same  pendulum  which  swings  seconds 
at  London,  will  vibrate  at  the  same  rate  under  the  line.  In 
this  instance,  however,  the  theoretical  inference  is  contradicted 
by  the  fact ; — but  the  contradiction  is  attended  with  no 
practical  inconvenience  to  the  multitude,  while,  in  the  mind 

41* 


48G  REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 

of  the  philosopher,  it  only  serves  to  awaken  his  attention  to 
the  clilferent  circumstances  of  the  two  cases,  and,  in  tlie  last  re- 
sult, throws  a new  lustre  on  the  simplicity  and  uniformity  of 
that  law,  from  which  it  seemed,  at  first  sight,  an  anomalous 
deviation. 

Illustration  from  the  uniformity  of  the  laws  of  grammar.  — 
To  this  uniformity  in  the  laws  which  regulate  the  order  of  phys- 
ical events,  there  is  something  extremely  similar  in  the  system- 
atical regularity  (subject  indeed  to  many  exceptions)  which, 
in  every  language,  however  imperfect,  runs  thi’ough  the  differ- 
ent classes  of  its  words,  in  respect  of  their  inflexions,  forms  of 
derivation,  and  other  verbal  filiations  or  affinities.  How  much 
this  regularity  or  analogy  (as  it  is  called  by  grammarians),  con- 
tributes to  facilitate  the  acquisition  of  dead  and  foreign  lan- 
guages, every  person,  who  has  received  a liberal  education, 
knows  from  his  own  experience.  Nor  is  it  less  manifest,  that 
the  same  circumstance  must  contribute  powerfully  to  aid  the 
memories  of  children  in  learning  to  speak  their  mother-tongue. 
It  is  not  my  present  business  to  trace  the  principles  in  the  hu- 
man mind  by  which  it  is  produced.  All  that  I would  remark 
is,  the  very  early  period  at  which  it  is  seized  by  children  ; as  is 
strongly  evinced  by  their  disposition  to  push  it  a great  deal  too 
far,  in  their  first  attempts  towards  speech.  This  disposition 
seems  to  be  closely  connected  with  that  which  leads  them  to 
repose  faith  in  testimony ; and  it  also  bears  a striking  resem- 
blance to  that  which  prompts  them  to  extend  their  past  expe- 
rience to  those  objects  and  events  of  which  they  had  not  hitherto 
had  any  means  of  acquiring  a direct  knowledge.  It  is  proba- 
ble, indeed,  that  our  expectation,  in  all  these  cases,  has  its  ori- 
gin in  the  same  common  principles  of  our  nature ; and  it  is 
certain,  that,  in  all  of  them,  it  is  subservient  to  the  important 
purpose  of  facilitating  the  progress  of  the  mind.  Of  this  no- 
body can  doubt,  who  considers  for  a moment,  that  the  great  end 
to  be  first  accomplished  was  manifestly  the  communication  of 
the  general  rule  ; the  acquisition  of  the  exceptions  (a  knowl- 
edge of  which  is  but  of  secondary  importance)  being  safely 
intrusted  to  the  growing  diligence  and  capacity  of  the  learner. 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


487 


The  considerations  now  stated,  may  help  us  to  conceive  in 
what  manner  conclusions  derived  from  experience  come  to  be 
insensibly  extended  from  the  individual  to  the  species ; partly 
in  consequence  of  the  gross  and  undistinguishing  nature  of  our 
first  perceptions,  and  partly  m consequence  of  the  magical  in- 
fluence of  a common  name.  They  seem  also  to  show,  that  this 
natural  process  of  thought,  though  not  always  justified  by  a 
sound  logic,  is  not  without  its  use  in  the  infancy  of  human 
knowledge. 

4.  Evidence  of  testimony  tacitly  recognized  as  a ground  of  5e- 
lief  in  our  most  certain  conclusions  concerning  contingent  truths. 
— In  some  of  the  conclusions  which  have  been  already  under 
our  consideration  with  respect  to  contingent  truths,  a species  of 
evidence  is  admitted,  of  which  no  mention  has  hitherto  been 
made ; 1 mean  the  evidence  of  testimony.  In  astronomical  cal- 
culations, for  example,  how  few  are  the  instances  in  which  the 
data  rest  on  the  evidence  of  our  own  senses ; and  yet  our  con- 
fidence in  the  result  is  not,  on  that  account,  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree weakened.  On  the  contrary,  what  certainty  can  be  more 
complete  than  that  with  which  we  look  forward  to  an  eclipse  of 
the  sun  or  the  moon,  on  the  faith  of  elements  and  of  computa- 
tions which  we  have  never  verified,  and  for  the  accuracy  of 
wliich  we  have  no  ground  of  assurance  whatever,  but  the  scien- 
tific reputation  of  the  writers  from  whom  we  have  borrowed 
theai.  An  astronomer  who  should  affect  any  skepticism  with 
respect  to  an  event  so  predicted,  would  render  himself  no  less 
an  object  of  ridicule,  than  if  he  were  disposed  to  cavil  about 
the  certainty  of  the  sun’s  rising  to-morrow. 

Even  in  pure  mathematics,  a similar  regard  to  testimony,  ac- 
companied with  a similar  faith  in  the  faculties  of  others,  is  by 
no  means  uncommon.  Who  would  scruple,  in  a geometrical 
investigation,  to  adopt  as  a link  in  the  chain,  a theorem  of  Apol- 
lonius or  of  Archimedes,  although  he  might  not  have  leisure  at 
the  moment  to  satisfy  himself,  by  an  actual  examination  of  their 
demonstrations,  that  they  had  been  guilty  of  no  paralogism, 
either  from  accident  or  design,  in  the  course  of  their  reasonings  ’ 


488 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


Difference  between  the  logical  and  the  popular  meaning  of  the 
word  prohabilitg.  — la  our  anticipations  of  astronomical  phe- 
nomena, as  well  as  in  those  which  we  form  concerning  the  result 
of  any  familiar  experiment  in  physics,  philosophers  are  accus- 
tomed to  speak  of  the  event  as  only  probable,  although  our  con- 
fidence in  its  happening  is  not  less  complete  than  if  it  rested  on 
the  basis  of  mathematical  demonstration.  The  word  probable, 
therefore,  when  thus  used,  does  not  imply  any  deficiency  in  the 
proof,  but  only  marks  the  particular  nature  of  that  proof , as  con- 
tradistinguished from  another  species  of  evidence.  It  is  opposed, 
not  to  what  is  certain,  but  to  what  admits  of  being  demonstrated 
after  the  manner  of  mathematicians.  This  differs  widely  from 
the  meaning  annexed  to  the  same  word  in  popular  discourse : 
according  to  which,  whatever  event  is  said  to  be  probable,  is  un- 
derstood to  be  expected  with  some  degree  of  doubt.  “ As  cer- 
tain as  death  ” — “ as  certain  as  the  rising  of  the  sun  ” — are 
jiroverbial  modes  of  expression  in  all  countries ; and  they  are 
both  of  them,  borrowed  from  events  which,  in  philosophical  lan- 
guage, are  only  probable  or  contingent.  In  like  manner,  the 
existence  of  the  city  of  Pekin,  and  the  reality  of  Cossar’s  assas- 
sination, which  the  philosopher  classes  with  probabilities,  because 
they  rest  solely  upon  the  evidence  of  testimony,  are  universally 
classed  with  certainties  by  the  rest  of  mankind ; and  in  any 
case  but  the  statement  of  a logical  theory,  the  application  to 
such  truths  of  the  word  probable,  would  be  justly  regarded  as 
an  Impropriety  of  speech.  This  difference  between  the  techni- 
cal meaning  of  the  word  probability,  as  employed  by  logicians, 
and  the  notion  usually  attached  to  it  in  the  business  of  life, 
together  with  the  erroneous  theories  concerning  the  nature  of 
demonstration,  which  I have  already  endeavored  to  refute,  — 
have  led  many  authors  of  the  highest  name,  in  some  of  the 
most  important  arguments  which  can  employ  human  reason,  to 
overlook  that  irresistible  evidence  which  was  placed  before  their 
eyes,  in  search  of  another  mode  of  proof  altogether  unattaina- 
ble in  moral  inquiries,  and  which,  if  it  could  be  attained,  would 
not  be  less  liable  to  the  cavils  of  skeptics. 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


489 


But  although,  in  philosophical  language,  the  epithet  probable 
be  applied  to  events  which  are  acknowledged  to  be  certain,  it  is 
also  applied  to  those  events  which  are  called  probable  by  the 
vulgar.  The  philosophical  meaning  of  the  word,  therefore,  is 
more  comprehensive  than  the  popular;  the  former  denoting 
that  particular  species  of  evidence  of  which  contingent  truths 
admit ; the  latter  being  confined  to  such  degrees  of  this  evidence 
as  fall  short  of  the  highest.  These  different  degrees  of  proba- 
bility the  philosopher  considers  as  a series,  beginning  with  bare 
possibility,  and  terminating  in  that  apprehended  infallibility  with 
which  the  phrase  moral  certainty  is  synonymous.  To  this  last 
term  of  the  series,  the  'wovd  probable  is,  in  its  ordinary  accepta- 
tion, plainly  inapplicable. 

The  satisfaction  which  the  astronomer  derives  from  the  exact 
coincidence,  in  point  of  time,  between  his  theoretical  predictions 
concerning  the  phenomena  of  the  heavens,  and  the  correspond- 
ing events  when  they  actually  occur,  does  not  imply  the  smallest 
doubt,  on  his  part,  of  the  constancy  of  the  laws  of  nature.  It 
resolves  partly  into  the  pleasure  of  arriving  at  the  knowledge 
of  the  same  truth  or  of  the  same  fact  by  different  media ; but 
chiefly  into  the  gratifying  assurance  which  he  thus  receives,  of 
the  correctness  of  his  principles,  and  of  the  competency  of  the 
human  faculties  to  these  sublime  investigations.  What  exquis- 
ite delight  must  La  Place  have  felt,  when,  by  deducing  from 
the  theory  of  gravitation  the  cause  of  the  acceleration  of  the 
moon’s  mean  motion  — an  acceleration  which  proceeds  at  the 
rate  of  little  more  than  11"  in  a century,  — he  accounted,  with 
such  mathematical  precision,  for  all  the  recorded  observations 
of  the  place  from  the  infancy  of  astronomical  science ! It  is 
from  the  length  and  abstruseness,  however,  of  the  reasoning 
process,  and  from  the  powerful  effect  produced  on  the  imagina- 
tion, by  a calculus  which  brings  into  immediate  contrast  with 
the  immensity  of  time  such  evanescent  elements  as  the  frac- 
tional parts  of  a second,  that  the  coincidence  between  the  com- 
putation and  the  event  appears  in  this  instance  so  peculiarly 
striking.  In  other  respects,  our  confidence  in  the  future  result 


490 


REASONING  AND  DEDUCTIVE  EVIDENCE. 


rests  on  the  same  principle  with  our  expectation  that  the  sun 
will  rise  to-morrow  at  a particular  instant;  and,  accordingly, 
now  that  the  correctness  of  the  theory  has  been  so  wonderfully 
verified  by  a comparison  with  facts,  the  one  event  is  expected 
with  no  less  assurance  than  the  other. 


rTRANS.  FROM  PL 
199S 


